


Do Not Go Softly

by Deviation



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4460405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deviation/pseuds/Deviation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard makes a choice. Shepard dies. Shepard wakes up.</p><p>She wishes she could say this was the first time that's happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two roads diverged in a wood

**Author's Note:**

> You know for Dragon Age being Mass Effect with magic and Mass Effect being Dragon Age in space, there's surprisingly few crossovers. I seek to correct this.

She more falls then jumps into the light, her body disintegrating around her, light consuming her body and converting it into data to change the galaxy forever. She thinks to herself, Thane. Thane. Thane. What’s left of her being smiles and she’s gone.

Or

She grabs the conduit, blue light filling her body as her mind is burned away in seconds or maybe years. Every memory plays at the same time, uploading itself into a new program with a single goal: protect the galaxy, do it for them. One face is clear above the rest, green scales curved in to a secretive smile and whatever is left of her thinks Thane. Thane. Thane. The program that controls the universe is sent off with a single message then with no clear meaning. Just a feeling to keep the program something almost human so that it never turns on the galaxy: love love love.

Or

She shoots. Each bullet filled with regret because she knows that the Geth don’t deserve to die, that EDI doesn’t deserve to die, but the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. She can’t leave it to chance that the Reapers might or might not be controlled or might or might not be synthesized. She is Shepard and she has a mission to accomplish. Each shot’s recoil jolts her ribs in ways that they weren’t meant to and she can’t breathe. She wonder if this is how he felt and she shoots again- each shot ringing out like his name. Would he be proud of her choice? Disappointed? She’ll find out soon enough.

Or

Her army is a million times strong, more diverse then any before and ready to strike back against the Reapers. Should they fail Liara has already put safe guards in place. But Shepard has never been one to take the options given to her when there’s another one yapping its mouth right in front of her face. She shoots and shoot again. She angers it, whatever it is. Good. The conduit breaks around her but she watches as Geth and Quarian, Turian and Human, Asari, Krogan, Hanar, Drell, Elcor, Volus, _Everyone_ work together to take down Reaper after Reaper. Her gun hits the floor with a thud and so do her knees. She looks up at the destruction above her and thinks of Thane and prays. She may have doomed the galaxy but this was a generation of fighters; they would not go quietly into the night.

Thane she thinks, Thane she breathes, Thane her heart beats. She closes her eyes and

She’s running. The world around her is green and strange and she’s being chased by the strange shadows that crawl like spiders. A woman waits ahead of her; obscured by light or made of light it’s hard to tell. Shepard runs, her instincts screaming, and the shadows rushing after her. The figure reaches out, saying something but the words are lost to the tidal wave of the whispers and the scratching sound of spiders. She stumbles several times, reaching forward, fingers brushing the hand of the figure before her and then

She wakes up. Her head pounds and all she can hear is her own heartbeat. The world is white behind her eyes and the world spins around her. She tries to clutch her aching head but her hands are halted, chained to the ground and suddenly the world is in focus again. Keeping her eyes closed, Shepard analyzes her surroundings. She’s on her knees, it’s cold, and there’s movement around her. She’s chained by her hands but her feet aren’t bound (a mistake that will cost them for sure) and she’s not wearing her armor and can’t feel any of her weapons on her.

Her hand burns. She wonders if she’s missing time, if she’s been tortured already and doesn’t know it. It certainly feels like a concussion is going on so it’s a possibility. What’s the last thing she remembers? The conduit, the light, the child…? What did she do? What did she do?

She opens her eyes.

‘ _I’m in…a dungeon? Where the hell am I, medieval Earth? What the fuck happened?_ ’ she shifts, assessing her body once more. Broken ribs have been patched, maybe even healed completely though still sore. She’s obviously been kneeling for a while from what her knees are telling her. She scans the room, humanoid shaped guards stand in the shadows, weapons drawn and dressed like it’s a renaissance fair in heavy armour and swords and shields, ‘ _Is this a joke…?_ ’ she thinks, eyeing the drawn swords carefully, ‘ _no those are definitely real. So not a joke. What happened…?_ ’ her breath begins to quicken, but subtly as she tries to control it, her eyes darting from person to person. Desperately, she tries to access even her omnitool but all she get for her trouble is another burning pain in her hand, so obviously her synthetics are damaged.

‘ _This would be a great time to discover that you’re actually a biotic, Shepard._ ’ She desperately wills the nearest guard to be thrown into the wall. It doesn’t happen.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now”

Shepard gazes steadily at the two new comers. Her hand pulses again, green light flashing.

“The conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead. Except for you,” the black haired woman continues, the hooded red haired one standing to the side and observing with a blank face. Shepard brings her gaze back to the black haired woman. Her mouth is twisted in a snarl, not happy to be kept from her answer, an answer Shepard doesn’t have.

She licks her lips, “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” Blunt and to the point. She wishes she had some sort of story to spin but as it is she’s surrounded and bound and being watched very carefully with no weapons or armor or even her omnitool. Her options are limited, ‘ _Are they cultists? Technology purists? Did I somehow land on-_ ‘

“Don’t lie to me!” the woman snarls, “if you’ve no idea of what I speak then explain this!” the woman grabs Shepard’s hands and drags them up, pulling her up slightly from her kneeling position to do so. The woman’s face is twisted in a snarl, her scars twisting around her cheeks like snakes. Her hand pulsates again, green light flaring out.

“I can’t,” Shepard grits out, “your guess is as good as mine.”

 _‘Should I reveal who I am? If they’re cultists will they know or care? Will they kill me for being allian-_ ‘

The black haired woman lunges, grabbing Shepard and pushing her back. She tenses, preparing to swing her bound fists or even headbutt the woman as she screams, “You’re lying!”

Before Shepard could Wrex her way out of this mess the hooded woman rushes forward, stepping between herself and the dark haired woman, “We need her Cassandra!”

Before either could decide they didn’t need her any longer Shepard interrupted, “Listen, My name is Commander Shepard, Alliance Military and Spectre. I don’t know where I am but I need to contact SSV Normandy immediately.”

The two women glance at one another, neither with any recognition in their faces and Shepard’s stomach drops, having apparently played her cards too soon, ‘ _shit everyone knows my name-where the hell am I_?’

“Do you recall what happened? How this began?” the hooded one says slowly, her voice flat but for the undercurrent of something turbulent underneath.

Her heart is speeding up, confusion, fear and pain warring with her training for dominance, “I was at the conduit and then I was…I was running? Things were chasing me. And then, a woman?” The hooded woman said something but Shepard couldn’t hear her over the sound of blood rushing, “but that doesn’t make sense how did I end up here? Where am I?”

The dark haired woman, Cassandra, makes a noise in her throat before sending the other one, Lelliana, out to the forward camp. Cassandra kneels before Shepard, swiftly undoing the bonds, “Where am I?” Shepard asks again, her panic leaking into her voice slightly.

“It will be easier to show you.”

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title "the road not taken" by Robert Frost


	2. When it was claimed the war had ended, it had not ended.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard finds a crossbow

There’s a hole in the sky and it’s the same shade of green as the mark on Shepard’s hand. At first she thinks it’s something in the atmosphere, maybe a tornado is coming? But then the whole surrounding sky would be green tinged not…this. And that wouldn’t explain the mark on her hand, ‘ _I don’t think we’re in the local cluster anymore, Toto_ ,’ the thought is tinged with slight hysteria.

“We call it the Breach; it is a rift into the world of demons that grows with each passing hour. It is not-“

 “ _Demons_?” the incredulity in Shepard voice speaks for itself. Again, Cassandra stares, something unreadable on her face. She nods sternly, her lips thinned out.

“Unless we act the Breach may grow until is swallows the world,” Cassandra’s voice is grim, she moves to say something more but suddenly the Breach pulsates and with it so does the mark on Shepard’s hand. Burning white hot pain shoots through her body, pulsating from her hand. Shepard hisses lowly, her right hand grasping her left tightly, the whole arm trembling with suppressed pain, “Each time the Breach expands the mark spreads and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

Shepard closes her eyes, breathing sharp and deep through her nose, holding it in, then out through her mouth. Her thoughts swirl around her chaotically, trying to resolve what she knows with what’s being shown to her now. She wants to scream or maybe cry; mostly she wants to know what the hell is going on and what the hell happened on the conduit. But Shepard is a survivor and more importantly she’s a marine and that means that she does everything in her power to protect those who can’t protect themselves. Whatever this Breach is? Whatever this mark on her hand is? Whoever these people are and whatever she’s doing here? Can all be solved later-when people are safe because it seems she may be the only one who can help, ‘ _not that there’s anything unusual in that’_

Shepard nods sharply, straightening from where she’d hunched over due to pain. She clenches her left hand tightly, smothering the light emanating from her hand, “I understand.”

“Then…?”

“I’ll do what I can. Whatever it takes.”

Cassandra nods again, her face not quite as stern as before. She grabs the back of Sheppard’s borrowed clothing (she really needs to find her armor, this civilian clothing is too loose and doesn’t offer nearly enough protection) and pushes her along. Shepard straightens her shoulders and shakes her off, straightening even further. Prisoner she may be, for whatever reason, but she has her pride. Something in Cassandra seems to approve as they walk side by side through a make-shift village. People are moaning on the ground in cots as others stand around, lost and helpless. All are dressed in either simple garb or the same medieval looking armor that her captors were wearing earlier. They all stare at her, whispering in harsh voices and glaring as though stares alone could kill her.

“They have decided your guilt. They need it,” Cassandra continues, and Shepard listenes carefully, making mental notes about obviously important figures to these people and sorting the information in her head. At the mention of mages, she almost stumbles but catches herself, refusing to show weakness in front of anyone. ‘ _oh please let that be code for something else,’_ is the only thought running through Shepard’s head. True dread begins to fill Shepard as they walk and Cassandra talks, revealing perhaps more then she means to in the process. This world, wherever it is, is in the middle of some sort of war. And this Conclave was meant to bring peace between the…the mages and the Templars. An explosion of some sort occurred? But people died, including this Divine Justinia.

Cassandra stops suddenly, turning to face Shepard and pulls out a knife. At first Shepard thinks this is it for the semi-peaceful talk they’d been having, but instead she moves to cut Shepard’s bonds…which have already been loosened to the point that grasping them made them fall away. At Cassandra’s look, Shepard smirks slightly- as if rope (rope!) was really going to hold her for long.

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more,” at that Shepard’s smirk falls and she nods. She doesn’t want to hurt Cassandra, but she will not be standing trial on some backwater planet when the galaxy is at stake. After, maybe. But for now she plays along, outnumbered and out sworded she doesn’t have much choice.

They walk along the bridge and into the valley, Cassandra talking all the while, filling in the blanks in her knowledge slowly but surely. As they reach another bridge something almost like green lighting strikes the bridge, breaking it apart the bridge beneath their feet, killing several soldiers immediately as they feel. Shepard grunts as she feels her rib crack again as she collides with rocks and debris falling. For a moment, Shepard just gasps for breath sharply, her ribs protesting every breath. Green light fell from the sky once more and something crawled its way through the light. Deformed and inky, limbs too long and cloaked in ethereal robes it lunged forward. Cassandra charges forward- yelling for Shepard to stay behind. Shepard looks around her for some sort of weapon, anything to defend herself with the ground beneath her took on the sickly green hue again. Arms crawled their way out of the abyss, pulling itself forward from one world into the next, the scent of ozone and sulfur hitting her nose as the thing pulled itself forward.

Beside her, Shepard finds a crossbow, old and worn. She lunges for it and aims down the center of it. There was only one bolt in it so she needed to make it count. Her hands are steady if awkward around the strange weapon. The scent of ozone and sulfur grows stronger as the beast glides forward towards her, warped skin shifting with every movement as though it wasn’t attached quite right. When the beast was nearly upon her, so close she could see the holes where eyes should be, she pulls the trigger shooting it dead center between the eyes. It screeches loudly and Shepard hisses as the recoil from the crossbow jolts her ribs but the thing isn’t dead. It lunges once more and Shepard ducks out of the way, swiftly getting herself behind the clumsy monster. With no bolts left in the crossbow it became a useless piece of equipment in most people’s hands, but in her hands it’s still a weapon to be used. Rushing the beast she bludgeons it, the sickly skin giving easy under the blunt weapon before snapping back in place like elastic.

She growls and clubs it again, it turns to face her, inhuman growls emanating from where its mouth should be and she strikes it again across Its face. It stumbles back and she advances quickly this time striking the things arm, hoping to snap it. Instead, it grabs her weapon with its other hand, seemingly not feeling any pain as it drag her towards it. Instead of pulling back she pushes forward, tackling the monster to the ground making it lose its grip on her. She takes advantage of her new position and bludgeons the thing across the face again and again.

Eventually, it stills, body disintegrating into green light. She snarls, copper tang on her tongue as she shifts her body around to check on Cassandra. Cassandra had finished her battle and was staring at her with wide eyes and mouth just slightly agape. Shepard stands fluidity, the grace of a predator in her every movement. Cassandra quickly snaps out of it, raising her weapon and snarling “Drop your weapon. Now.”

Shepard, tired, aching and high on adrenaline narrows her eyes crouching down low into a fighting stance. She may only have a useless crossbow but Cassandra obviously isn’t used to Shepard’s style of fighting and it’s only the two of them, if needed Shepard is sure she would win, “I don’t need a weapon to be dangerous,” Shepard warns.

For a tense moment Shepard mourns, she really doesn’t want to hurt Cassandra, but something in Casandra loosens as she sighs, sheathing her sword, “I should remember that you agreed to come willingly. Search the caravan for more bolts-bludgeoning demons will only get you so far.”

Shepard nods and straightens out. Her gut tells her she can trust Cassandra not to stab her in the back so she swiftly turns and strides toward the fallen caravan. The bolts are scattered and many of them are snapped and useless but they would do. Not that the crossbow would be much use in her hands-her first shot was a lucky one, aided by how clumsy and close that thing had been. More likely she’d be forced to hang back as Cassandra took the brunt of the fighting, maybe taking pot shots when she was sure she wouldn’t miss.

Once she’d gathered as many bolts as she could carry, plus a sling to hold them in, she turns to Cassandra and strides toward her. For a moment there is stillness; they assess one another and then continue forward. Shepard’s ribs ache sharply and she wishes for medigel more than anything right now but she keeps her mouth shut, not wanting to admit weakness on someone she’s not sure she can trust to know she’s weakened. Cassandra seems honorable, and likely wouldn’t stab Shepard when her back is turned. But a wounded creature is still an easy target.

Cassandra notices however and sighs heavily, digging through her pack and handing Shepard a small bottle, “Drink that it will mend your minor wounds and ease the pain,” cautiously, Shepard takes the bottle and uncorks it with her teeth so as to take a discrete sniff of it. Nothing that sets off any warning bells in her head. Taking a chance, Shepard gulps the potion down in one go, the viscous liquid warm against her tongue, and tasting of herbs and mint. Immediately, a soft warmth radiates along her ribs, numbing the pain. It’s uncomfortable and a little painful as she can almost feel the bones mending beneath her skin, but not unbearable. “Careful,” Cassandra continues as Shepard stretches her body to test her range of movement, “Potions cannot cure all or completely. Your wounds will still be delicate and prone to breakage until we find a healer.” Shepard nods. Similar to medigel then, luckily her ribs were likely only fractured or bruised badly then and not snapped.

They continue on, eventually reaching a ravine. The monsters, demons as Cassandra called them, rise from the ground once more. Shepard hangs back, allowing Cassandra to shout and allow the demons to draw their attention to her. Carefully, Shepard waits for an opening, cautious with the crossbow she holds, adjusting and readjusting her grip trying to find a natural holding position for it. Not like a sniper rifle at all. A demon moves to Cassandra’s flank and Shepard reacts on instinct, shooting a bolt and landing straight in the demon’s gut. Sheppard scowls, she had been aiming for its head. She adjusts her aim, aiming higher, as the demon moves to attack Cassandra again. This time the shot goes wide, going over the beast’s head. She curses under her breath fumbling with the next bolt but Cassandra spins and slashes the demon across its chest causing it to reel back as it disintegrates.

Shepard creeps closer, moving from jutting rock to fallen caravan with practiced ease, trying to get close enough to the battle to be of some use. She manages to shoot two bolts in quick succession, one hitting a demon to Cassandra’s flank and the other skimming past over Cassandra’s shoulder.

“Not at me!” Cassandra shouts, bashing the closest demon with her shield, “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

“No!”

“Ugh!”

The battle is over quickly after that. Cassandra going to the remains of fallen soldiers and the rags of demons alike, searching for potions. Shepard goes to where she shot her bolts, two of which had snapped but most of which were in good shape. She loads one into the crossbow and places the rest in her satchel.

“What weapons do you normally use?” Cassandra asks a scowl on her face. She reaches up and swipes blood from her face.

“Something similar to a crossbow but more…accurate,” Sheppard slowly states, reluctant to reveal too much without knowing more about her surroundings. Is she on a pre space age planet? It seems like it but the local people look remarkably like humans.

“You mentioned you are a commander, you are of the King’s Army then?”

“Something like that.”

“I see.”

They continued onward, fighting more demons along the way and Shepard quickly growing used to the crossbow. It is more cumbersome then her sniper rifle but Shepard has been trained for years in how to use different weapons as the need calls for it- she knows how to adapt. Eventually, they begin seeing crumbled buildings and the sounds of fighting up ahead. They rush forward to help, Shepard lagging behind and taking pot shots when able. There was a short man with a crossbow as well but instead of taking cover he was in the midst of the fighting, weaving in and out of the battle as needed. Another man stood in the center of the fight, an eye in the storm with a staff of some sort shooting energy at the demons surrounding them. The tall man with the staff seemed the most vulnerable, even more so then her, wearing traveler’s clothes instead of armor so Shepard trusts in the other two to watch each other’s backs as she keeps the man’s flank clear.     

“Behind you!” Cassandra called out

Sheppard whirled around, a demon raising up around her and she felt a tingle across her skin as she begins to glow slightly.  The demon’s claws pushing against Shepard’s raised arms but do not pierce skin and Shepard grins, taking her crossbow and rushing the demon as before, clubbing it across the head. It falls to the ground and she stands over it, shooting a bolt into its head. It disintegrates like the others and she pulls the bolt from the snowy ground reloading it into her crossbow and whirling around, firing off at a demon about to strike down the tall man causing that one to disintegrate as well. Floating above the ground is a strange crystal, growing and pulsating and Shepard can feel her hand pulsating with it. With the battle over for now she take the time to examine it, given only seconds before the tall man is before her again.

“Quickly, before more come through!”

He grabs her hand and raises it. The mark on her hand pulsates once and then a beam of green lights connects her to the strange floating wound in the air. She grunts, gritting her teeth against a scream as her entire body pulsates with foreign energy. As abruptly as it began the connection fade, and with it the wound in the sky. Shepard pulls her hand from the man’s grip and switches from looking at her hand as though it were a foreign object and looking at the tall man.  

“What did you do?”

“I did nothing, the credit is yours.”

Shepard blinks and a cold wave rushes through her. She can’t afford to be thrust in the middle of this, this war these people are going through. She has her own war to fight. Her gaze returns to her hand, clenched in a fist to prevent the shaking.

“Well shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title "in California during the gulf war" , Denise Labertov


	3. We Drank in the Remains of Ruined Buildings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard seals the breach.

“You can say that again,” says the short man, his grin easy.

Shepard looks up from her clenched hand. The man’s eyes are kind and his smile appears genuine. Despite the sudden weight dragging her shoulder down, Shepard can’t help but smile back.

“Varric Tethras: rouge, story teller, and occasional unwelcome tag along”

“You with the ‘chantry’ or…?”

“Ha! Is that a serious question?” The tall man chucked. Upon closer examination the man’s ears appear pointed? No one else she’d seen had pointed ears. Is he part of a different species or is it just a trait some people had on this planet? More importantly, what kind of organization is this Chantry?

“Why would the Chantry not accept him?”

“You must not visit the chantry much then; they don’t accept anyone but humans into their order,” Varric says, annoyance in his voice. So that answers previous questions-based on what Varric said he wasn’t considered human and the pointed ear man likely wasn’t either based on his attitude toward the chantry.

“That’s stupid.”

The tall man and Varric both chuckle while Cassandra radiates disapproval from behind.  

“I am Solas if there are to be introductions.”

“He means ‘I kept that mark and all your wounds from killing you while you slept,” Varric interjects.

Shepard raises an eyebrow but that answers several questions, the main one being that now she knows how her wounds didn’t kill her.

“Good to meet you- the names Shepard. I appreciate your efforts,” She nods at Solas, maintaining eye contact.

 He nods back before turning to Cassandra, explaining, “Seeker, you should know that the magic here is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Your prisoner is no mage but I find it difficult to believe any mage possessing such power.”

“Understood.”

“Well Shepard you ready to kill some demons?” Varric says, reloading his crossbow.

“No, absolutely no-“

“Absolutely yes,” Shepard cuts her off, “Cassandra, we need all the help we can get.”

“Ugh.”

‘ _Is there some sort of history between those two? Ugh there’s more important things to worry about right now then petty dislike.’_ Shepard sighs-this is gonna be as bad as Wrex and Garrus were in the beginning isn’t it? She moves across the battlefield then-gathering bolts from where they pierce the ground. Varric soon joins her and the other two scattered the field looking for more supplies.

“So you shoot a crossbow? Excellent choice if I do say so myself,” Varric says with pride, patting his own crossbow lovingly.

“It’s a recent development,” Shepard responds, harshly pulling a bolt from the ground.

“Yeah it seems like you’re overcompensating for something-used to something with a little more heft?”

“Something like that,” Shepard says as she pulls another bolt out, wincing at the newly forming blisters on her hands. She feels like a new recruit- getting blisters from her weapon. Having gathered several bolts, Shepard stands scanning the perimeter and keeping tabs on her new companions. They seem to have finished gathering as well So Shepard moves forward. The others fall in line with Cassandra taking the lead and walking them toward a path blocked off by debris which they climb over easily enough. As they walk Shepard begins to feel nostalgic. The situation is very reminiscent of early missions she’d taken, ‘ _Damn it feels like its been a thousand years since we fought Saren.’_ They continue walking, occasionally taking out some straggling demons. The glowing tear in the sky expands several times, each time the pain shooting through Shepard is enough to stop her in her tracks and grit her teeth. The mark may or may not be killing her but it’s certainly a pain in the ass either way.

“So what did happen at the Conclave Shepard?” Varric asks after they take out a group of demons.

“I was never there so I wouldn’t know. I’m not even sure how I got here,” or where here is but that’s a question to be asked when the apparent end of the world is at hand. Must be Tuesday.

“Ah, that’ll get you every time. You should have made something up”

Shepard snorts, “Yeah probably.”

They fall into silence once more each person lost in their own thoughts. Occasionally the others will make comments to each other but Shepard is too busy observing the world around her to make much note of it, ‘ _Earth like gravity and atmosphere, except for some excess Oxygen. Presence of what can only be described as magic given the lack of other advanced technologies. These demons aren’t geth but they certainly aren’t human or any other species I’ve ever seen…and their bodies disappear when dead. Bodies don’t do that.’_ She growls a little under her breath, what in the world is going on?

Eventually the come across another rift in front of a set of gates. Having grown used to fighting alongside each other this one goes a little smoother. Shepard stays back with Solas, taking pot shots and shooting the distance fighters while Varric and Cassandra weave in and out of battle. She isn’t sure how to treat a mage in battle so she treats him as she would a biotic-stay out of their way and watch their back while they use their abilities. After some time the hairs on the back of Shepard’s neck stand up and, acting on instinct, she pushes herself and Solas away. Where they once stood is a demon with its claws gouging the ground. Shepard twists, her body covering Solas’s and shoots 3 bolts in quick succession. The demon disintegrates and Shepard stands, pulling Solas to his feet while scanning the perimeter behind him. Ozone fills the air as Solas strikes with lightening at something behind her but she doesn’t flinch; only shoots a bolt into one of the small floating spirits behind Solas.

With the battle dying down Shepard raises her hand again, the mark sparking to life in proximity to the rift and connecting. She grits her teeth against the pain and as the rift closes. Quickly, they move past the gates and onto a bride where soldiers are milling about and preparing for battle. Cassandra takes the lead, leading them to Leliana and a man in luxurious red and white robes.

“You made it! Chancellor Roderick this is-“

“I know who she is. As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry I herby order you to-“

Shepard bristles her temple flaring but she bites her tongue- this isn’t the time or place to let her temper get the better of her. Bureaucrats always bring the worst out in Shepard. Luckily, Shepard need not say anything as Cassandra seems to get along with politicians about as well as she does. That is to say like a house on fire. Leliana quickly jumps to Cassandra’s defense.

“Isn’t the breach the more pressing issue?” Shepard finally steps in, annoyed at the time being wasted.

“You brought this on us in the first-“

“If you have any proof I’ve done anything at all I’ll gladly accept the blame. As it is stand you have nothing but some odd circumstances. I will not be a part of your witch hunt. There is a hole in the sky and I intend to close it. If you can’t help with that then leave.” So her temper got the better of her after all. Damn it this is not the time to be making enemies.

Chancellor Roderick sputters, angry but at a loss as to what to do about it. Luckily, Cassandra steps in, taking the Chancellor’s attention from her as they discuss what to do. Shepard grits her teeth.

“Got a temper do you?” Varric says from her side, his proximity a comfort.

“I just really hate politicians.”

“That much is obvious,” Solas interjects, something like amusement on his face. For a moment Shepard is taken aback-the twist of his slight smile and his words remind her of Thane. But now isn’t the time.

“How do you think we should proceed?” Cassandra eventually asks her.

What Shepard wants is to go through the mountain path-the missing scouts mentioned could still live. But the more quickly the Breach is closed the more lives that can be saved in the long run. Decision made Shepard says, “Charge with the soldiers-the sooner we close the Breach the more lives we can save.”

Immediately guilt eats away at Shepard but she pushes it away. She can’t save everyone-these past few years have taught her nothing if not that. The best she can hope for is to save as many lives as possible but…, “If possible send someone to the mountains for the scouts-if nothing else their families will want their bodies back.” Leliana nods and for a split second there’s a moment of mourning for the missing scouts but there is no time for sentiment and so they move on.

“On your head be the consequences Seeker,” says the Chancellor.

“No,” Shepard responds, walking past him, “On mine.”

They walk and the soldiers mill about them, marching forward. Its simultaneously familiar and not to Shepard. The sounds of fighting reach them and Shepard breaks into a run, quickly throwing herself into the fray, putting a bolt into a demon about to strike down a soldier. The demons are taken down quickly and Shepard seals the rift.

“Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this,” says Solas.

“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” Shepard responds and Varric snorts in agreement.

A man with blond hair and heavy armor approaches them. He speaks to Cassandra first before turning to Shepard, “I hope they’re right about you, we’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.”

“I’m hoping they’re right to Commander.”

The move forward the scent of the cold air suddenly replaced by the smell of burning meat. Shepard’s empty stomach simultaneously clenches from hunger and dread. When they come across the first body, still burning and twisted in agony Shepard has to close her eyes for a second, memories of Mindoir flooding her senses. She’s simultaneously thirty and sixteen years old and it makes her dizzy.

“Shepard?” Cassandra asks, grounding her.

“I’m fine, let’s just move on.”

She tries not to look at the bodies. Especially the small ones. They walk further in, Cassandra speaking softly of how Shepard walked out of the fade and she concentrates on that. Eventually they came to an opening, and Leliana approaches them from behind and Cassandra orders her into position while Shepard’s gaze remains firmly on the Breach. It’s so close now.

“This is your chance to end this-are you ready.”

“Yes. How do I reach it?”

“This rift was the first – it is the key. Seal it and the Breach should seal as well,” Solas responds. Shepard nods. They move forward, stepping over debris.

A deep voice rings through the skeleton of the temple, “Now is the hour of our victory…Bring fourth the sacrifice.”

The others talk, discussing the voice and the red stones jutting from the ground and walls but Shepard focusses on moving them ahead. Scanning the perimeter and staying on high alert. This entire situation screams trap.

“Keep the sacrifice still.”

“Someone, help me!” a female voice this time, sounding terrified.

“What’s going on here?” a new voice calls out.

“Who is that?” Cassandra calls out

Suddenly, a flash of light and an old woman in red and white robes similar to the Chancellor’s but more ornate is held aloft. A shadowing figure with glowing red eyes before her and a woman with pointed ears and markings on her face appears, looking confused and alarmed.

“We have an intruder; kill her.”

“No!” the woman held aloft cries, pushing her body forward. The vision fades into a white light.

“You really where never there-but who was that elf? She must know what happened!”

“Whoever she is, she most likely perished with the rest of the conclave,” Solas replies, “Echos of what happened here, the Fade bleeds into this place…This Rift is not sealed but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons- stand ready!”

Soldiers line the soon to be battlefield and walls as Shepard approaches the pulsating crystal suspended in the sky. She lifts her hand and focuses on things that open; boxes, doors, locks, hearts. The mark pulsates with the crystal and suddenly it tears open, a demon larger than any she’s seen so far falls through, a dozen eyes and skin molted and flaky looking-the stuff of nightmares. Cassandra calls out to the soldiers and they begin their assault, drawing the attention of the demon as Shepard runs around it, trying to focus on closing the rift.

The light connects her to the rift and it pulsates, sending a shockwave through the field and dropping the demon to its knees. Seeing the opportunity, all on the field focus their attack on the fallen demon, Shepard shooting bolt as fast as she can reload them. Too soon the demon makes its way to its feet, something like laughter emanating from it and a whip of pure electricity snapping out. It strikes and several soldiers are flinged into the rocks. Shepard focuses again on the rift while the others attack it, sending the shockwave through the field once more and bringing it to its knees again. This continues with other demons soon pouring out of the rift, the battle field dividing into skirmishes as people defended themselves from shades and the demon alike. Shepard tries to stare near the rift, as the shockwaves give everyone the opportunity to strike down their opponents safely.

“I require assistance!” Solas calls out, drawing Shepard’s attention. The large demon and several smaller ones are focused on him and Shepard shoots her cross bow, dissipating two of the smaller ones rapidly. Cassandra, having heard the call as well, quickly finishes her own shade before shouting loudly, drawing the attention of the large demon. The demon raises its whip and strikes at Cassandra who ducks around the attack and cuts the demons legs with her sword. Quickly, Shepard connects to the rift again, sending the pulse out and bringing the demon to its knees. Cassandra then leaps and sinks her blade into the neck of the beast. It screams, raising its hands to try and pry Cassandra off but two bolt strike down its hands, one from herself and the other from Varric.

With the large demon gone, dismissing the rest of the shade is no problem for the soldiers so Shepard raises her hand, staring past the rift and into the green of the Breach and thinks of Thane.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Shepard is a paragon with Renegade tendencies that center around politicians. This will be the last chapter the focuses so much on in game dialogue.
> 
> In another world the Inquisitor would have been lavellan. How did Shepard get the mark then? We'll see
> 
> Title from "in the ruins" by mark conway


	4. A body it seems is a highway, a cloverleaf crossing, well built, well traversed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations

The bed is pointy. Not hard or soft just…pointy. It’s how Shepard knows that she’s alive-any afterlife that may or may not exist would (hopefully) have softer beds. For a brief moment Shepard lays there with her eyes closed. It would be easier to pretend to sleep then it would be to face this strange new world. But Shepard has never been one to turn from the truth so instead of lying there in denial she is instead putting together what she knows and what the best course of action might be, ‘ _They’re obviously not an uplifted people so it’d be best not to let too many people know I’m not from here. However, some will have to know-I can’t explain the gaps in my knowledge as being sheltered when I’ve already revealed that I’m a Commander. Most importantly I’m going to need their help finding the materials needed to contact the Normandy-I’m probably going to need to build a communications hub from scratch,’_ she sighs and moves to a sitting position.

She stares at her left hand, the green mark has stabilized and the pain from it is now a dull ache rather than the burning it was before. She could really use her omni-tool right about now but there are other options. She feels her left wrist with her right hand, looking for the communication chip that Cerberus had planted under her skin and that she had cheerfully modified into a standard communication device (with some improvements of course) minus the Cerberus installed GPS device.

She pauses. Then feels around her wrist area again. She takes deep even breaths and reaches behind her head, searching for her the bump where her universal translator was installed. Her hands shake a little. She wants to find a mirror, look for the quiet red gleam that she can see deep within her eyes but she settles for a bucket of water nearby. She searches for the two prick of red light in the moving surface but all she can see is the outline of her own visage. Setting the bucket down, Shepard leans forward, elbows on her knees and stares hard at the floor. She tries to hyper-focus her eyes, the inhuman detail that she should be able to achieve after being remade in Cerberus’ own image but nothing happens. Taking a deep breath through her nose, Shepard closes her eyes.

She has been remade once again.

After several long minutes the door opens and a crate falls to the floor with a bang. Shepard looks up and sees one of the pointed eared girls fall to the floor in fright. Her own problems being moved to the back burner, Shepard immediately falls to the floor with her, making her panicked babbling cut off with a squeak.

“Hey it’s okay. I’m not mad and I’m not gonna hurt you. What your name?” Shepard keeps her voice soft and her hands visible, keeping a respectable distance from the frightened girl.

“I-its Alisha my lady! I-I’m sorry she said ‘At once!’ I must-“ Alisha stammers.

“Alisha? That’s a pretty name. Can you tell me how long I’ve been asleep?”

“T-three day my Lady! They’re saying you saved us-stopping the Breach the way you did!” Alisha says, gaining a bit of confidence towards the end.

“I couldn’t have done it without a lot of help. Could you tell me where Cassandra is?”

“In the Chantry my lady! I must go tell her that you’re awake my lady! ‘At once,’ she said!”

“Okay, thank you for your help Alisha.”

Alisha, having straightened from her kneeling position over the course of the conversation, stands easily, a shy smile on her face, “These clothes are for you, my lady,” she says, before bowing deeply and leaving the room.

At the sound of the door clicking shut Shepard sighs. From this interaction Shepard gathers that attitudes have changed about her. She stands and walks over to the crate on the ground, pulling out clothing similar to what she’d seen the civilians where three days ago now; a pair of thick woolen tights and a large tunic as well as woolen socks and boots. She dresses swiftly if a little clumsily, the clothing being a size too big and made of material she’s not used to working with. The boots are the right size tho, which she’s grateful for-the last thing she needs being blisters on her feet.

Shepard stands in front of the door to her cabin. Taking a deep breath she exits. A soldier stands just outside of her cabin (guarding her or jailing her?) with his fist over his chest in some kind of salute. Refusing to be embarrassed by her body’s needs she goes up to him and asks, “Which way to the latrines?”

“Just outside the main gates and to the right of the soldier’s encampment, my lady,” the soldier responds.

Shepard nods and heads toward the main gate, following the soldier’s direction. A line of outdoor latrines is hard to miss, with the smell and all. Shepard resolves to breathe shallowly. After finishing she exit the latrine and dunks her hands in some snow in an attempt to wash them. A passing soldier entering one of the stalls looks at her funny before moving on.

Shepard decides she hates planets that haven’t discovered micro-organisms.  

Hands washed best as they could be, Shepard walks back into the main gates of the small village and heads towards the largest building. It looks big and important, chances are Cassandra is there.  People whisper as she passes but it’s different then the first day; there’s more awe and respect then there is fear. Shepard isn’t sure which she prefers. Stepping through the overly large doors (are there giants on this world too? Now there’s a scary thought) Shepard is hit by a wave of warmth. Fires are lit every few meters keeping the place well lit and warm. Thick red tapestries with strange symbols hang from the wall. Shepard walks, ignoring how people quiet as she walks past and heads towards the large doors at the end of the hall. Shouting comes from inside and she can make out words if she tries.

The smart thing to do would be to listen in and try and find out more about her status here but Shepard already has a pretty good idea of what it is. She recognizes hero worship when she sees it and feels safe in her position in this world for now. She opens the doors. Immediately there is a commotion- several people yelling at once Chancellor Roderick demanding her arrest and Cassandra demanding that the guards leave.

Shepard leans against a wall, faux-casual, as she watches the scene unfold, unable to bring herself to care over much about what’s happening. It’s simply more politics, involving her life this time sure, but politics none-the-less, Shepard can recognize when she’s become a pawn in someone else’s game.

Her ears perk at what Cassandra says- sent by the Maker? No. She does not need these people raising her up on a pedestal of any sort-not if she is to have any chance of making it home. “I wasn’t sent by anyone,” Shepard interrupts firmly. There’s a slight pause in the room-as tho they had all forgotten she was there. Good, she thinks, good. The Chancellor continues to argue, and Cassandra grows only more exasperated. Leliana accusing him of treason. Shepard tries to follow but there’s too much context missing in her knowledge.

“The Breach remains and your mark remains the only way of closing it,” Leliana says. Chancellor Roderick responds by Shepard is too busy look at her hand in horror. She can’t be stuck here. She can’t afford to be here-there’s an entire galaxy at stake.

But this mark on her hand binds her to these people too. Does she have an obligation to them? If she’s truly the only one who can do anything then doesn’t she have an obligation to help? But what of her obligation to the entire galaxy? A few billion people or a billion billion people-one planet or a galaxy’s worth?

And, not more importantly but more pressing on her mind at the moment is her own body. Her body, change once more, destroyed and created, seemingly to the days before Cerberus. Which…should be impossible. Her body had been completely rebuilt the first time-there had hardly been any original tissue left. It shouldn’t be possible for her to be alive right now without her synthetics. But here she is. Remade. Again.

The Chancellor leaves, but Shepard’s gaze remains fixed on her hand. She can feel panic rising in the distance so she falls back on her training. Later, she can panic, later she can allow herself the luxury. For now she must hold up a strong front. She looks up, tuning back into the conversation happening around her.

“We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no chantry support,” Leliana says.

“But we have no choice. We must act now,” Cassandra turns, looking Shepard in the eye, “With you at our side.”

Shepard closes her eyes and breathes heavily through her nose. She opens them again and returns Cassandra’s gaze, “I have other obligations-causes bigger then even this one but,” she holds up a hand halting Cassandra and Lilliana’s protests before they could begin, “But I will stay, for now.”

“What could possibly be more important than the Breach?” Cassandra sounds enraged, as tho ready to throw Shepard back in the chains she woke up in. Leliana just stares, something colds and dark in her eyes.

For a moment and a moment only Shepard hesitates. But she’s alone on a foreign planet with different rules and magic and demons and she needs to _go home._

“The entire galaxy”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will this go over well? Will it not? Who knows! (well I do of course but I digress)
> 
> Chapter title from "my proteins" by Jane hirshfield


	5. It's hard to remember, crossing time zones, the structure of the hours you left behind.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> getting to know everyone

Thane always used to say that she was brash. Not in those exact words; he called her decisive and quick thinking and he always sounded admiring as he did so-he’d say that a Siha should be so, should be able to make the decisions when no one else can. Part of being decisive and quick thinking is that sometimes you make the wrong call. That’s part of what it means to be N7 and what it means to be the figurehead of a war. Where Thane had admired her fire, Shepard had admired Thane’s stillness, his ability to think through every action or inaction that he takes-took-had been at such odds with her own style of living that it gave her pause when nothing else could. He made her think. Brought her constantly brimming mind to stillness. Made her think before she lept and before leaping anyway. Thane had called her decisive and had admired her for it-now she knows that what she really is is brash, despite all the ways she’s changed since meeting Thane, and she’s regretting it.

The looks on both Leliana and Cassandra’s faces are…something that’s for sure. Disbelief mixed with amazement-fear in the way that they hold themselves away and apart from her. Leliana hides her expression better then Cassandra but even she looks wary of Shepard. It’s a look she’s gotten used to over the years. Heavy silence fills the room the way it does after giving a family grave news; all other sounds seem to amplify. The crackle of the fires that light the room, the low murmur of people talking just beyond the door, the sound of Shepard’s own breathing as she tries to determine whether or not she’s going to find herself with two new allies or enemies. Shepard waits, to speak now would be to show uncertainty, nervousness, weakness, none of which she can afford to show if she’s to be believed by these two powerful women before her. So the quiet-not quiet stretches Until final broken by an large intake of breath from Cassandra.

“How do we know that anything you say is true? Have you any proof to support your claims of these…these other worlds? These…Reapers?”

Shepard moves her hands before her, spreading her fingers out wide and showing her palms to them, “I came here with nothing of mine. The only proof I have is what I know,” she keeps her voice steady and low, like talking to a spooked animal.

Cassandra grunts and her hands tighten into fists as she shakes her head minutely, “I don’t know what to believe. That you came of the Fade, physically came out of the fade, should be impossible. And now you say you are from another world? That there are worlds outside of our own?”

“Is it really so hard to believe?” Shepard asks, her voice even, “Haven’t you ever wondered what the stars are? And this Fade of yours…it’s a bit like another world of its own, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but…” Cassandra trails off, gritting her teeth, “It is just hard to believe.”

“Well it’s hard for me to believe that magic and demons are real so I suppose we’re on even footing there.”

“There is no magic where you are from?” Cassandra asks, incredulous.

“No, no demons or spirits either as far as I know. That’s something unique to this planet. It’s pretty amazing actually…” Shepard trails off slightly, not wanting to allow her own scientific curiosity to get the better of her.

“She’s telling the truth, Cassandra,” Leliana speaks up, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed slightly. Both women snap their eyes to her, “Or at the very least she believes she’s telling the truth. I can tell.”

There’s a pause in the room as everyone absorbs that statement and for a moment Shepard is relieved until she thinks for a moment, “What do you mean by ‘believes,’?” Shepard asks.

Leliana shrugs slightly, never breaking eye contact, “It’s always possible that you’re delusional. You did come from the Fade physically after all. Such a thing could very well damage the mind in many ways for we know so little of it.”

For a split second Shepard is a cumulation of all her years of pent up frustration and anger at a galaxy that chose not to heed her warnings and then, with a sigh, she lets it go, “That’s fair. I don’t have anything but my word that I’m telling the truth, after all.”

“For now,” Leliana begins, “It’d be best to keep this information secret. The people are already calling you the Herald of Andraste and we can use that- it would be dangerous to you and our cause if people knew their Herald was actually from another world. Or delusional.”

Shepard nods, agreeing. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone else in any case so it doesn’t matter truly. Cassandra looks less the pleased with the situation but she too nods and then turns to Shepard, “Thank you for telling us this- you did not have to and it would have perhaps been safer for you not to. But your trust is appreciated.”

Shepard wants to say it’s not about trust so much as it about survival but instead she nods firmly. There’s no need to make enemies with the people who now know what has recently become her greatest secret. Exhaustion settles around her like an old lover.

Perhaps Cassandra can sense this, perhaps it is simply good timing but Shepard is grateful all the same when she says, “You should rest now- you’ve a long few days ahead of you,” Shepard nods firmly and turns on her heal, making her way out the heavy doors. Her shoulder sag a little as she closes the door behind her but she quickly straightens them once more. ‘ _Not yet_ ,’ she thinks, ‘ _not here._ ’ She strides through the chantry, ignoring the whispers as she goes, her every movement purposeful and economical. When she leaves the chantry she pauses. She doesn’t want to head back to her designated cabin- she still remembers the feeling of waking up in literal chains, but she isn’t sure where to go or what to do with her time now. She sees a some collection of cabins to her left so she heads towards them first. The area is mostly empty save for a few soldiers standing about but she see Solas standing outside, staring at the Breach. She hesitates for a moment before approaching him.

He sees Shepard approach and turns to face her, “The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero to save us all.” There’s definite sarcasm in his voice but Shepard is too exhausted to hide the wrinkling of her nose and the amount of disgust and horror the title brings her. Her expression causes him to laugh shortly, “Are you not excited to be a part of this story?”

“Honestly? Not at all. But I’ll do what I must.”

He nods, seeming to approve, before turning and gazing out towards the village “I’ve journeyed deep into the fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of ancient spirits clashes to reenact ward both famous and forgotten. Every great war has it’s heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”   

For a moment she can only stare at him, struck by the utter similarity he has to Thane. The way he speaks and moves-they’re both so similar to one another. She turns from his gaze, staring out into the village. There are soldiers milling about but families too. Husbands and wives. Children. She takes a moment and wonders and then gently puts that wonder away. “You’ve studied ancient ruins?” She asks softly, watching two children chase one another, “Are you a scholar?”

She can feel his stare on her but she only continues to watch the children playing, “A scholar? No. But spirits are attracted to ancient buildings and battlefields. They press against the veil. When I sleep there I can find memories that no other living being has ever seen.”

Her head spins with new information. People can dream memories here? Can see old memories of places? Spirits reenact battles? She has so many questions! Her mind is spinning on all wheels as she shoots out another question, “Spirits reenact battles? Why?”

He seems pleased by her inquiry and stands straighter, Shepard is suddenly reminded of her instructors back at the academy, “Spirits are attracted to this side of the veil and many find us quite fascinating. They reenact scenes that suit their purpose as spirits or to instances that attract them- the same way you or I might read a favorite book over and over.”

Shepard nods, the cogs in her head turning, “So then spirits are like people then?”

Solas seem pleased by her questions, nearly preening as he answers, “In some ways yes, they are living beings but of a different nature and without the basic needs that those of us here have. Spirits designate themselves to a singular purpose usually, such as Wisdom or Faith and they embody that which we on this side of the veil value and perpetuate.”

“So then what’s the difference between a spirit and a demon?”

“Nothing, truly. A demon is but a spirit that has been corrupted from its original purpose. Faith to despair, wisdom to pride. But the form of a spirit is truly up to the person viewing them-if one expects to see a demon then the fade will bend toward the will of the viewer and the nature of the spirit will change.”

 Shepard hums thoughtfully, processing this new information.

“You seem to readily accept my explanation- have you not learned of what the chantry says of the nature of spirits?” Solas asks, curious.

“No not really,” Shepard answers distractedly, still thinking on the nature of spirits, “Besides you’re an expert aren’t you? It seems you’ve been studying spirits for years-why would I listen to what an organized religion with its own agenda has to say on anything?”  

“I’d be careful not to say that too loud, lest you be branded a heretic,” he cautions.

Shepard nods, she’d been put off guard by how much Solas reminds her of Thane but she needs to be more cautious. Her very ignorance on the subject of spirits is likely suspicious enough as is. She needs to be more subtle in her inquiries about the nature of this world. While she could likely ask Cassandra and Leliana on their opinions on things, they were obviously of the chantry and would likely have biased views, it would be important to have a well rounded idea of the world she now finds herself in if she’s to blend in.

He stares at her for a moment, obviously curious before he says, “I will stay then, at least until the breach is closed.”

“Was that in doubt?”

He sounds indigent as he replies, “I am an apostate mage surrounded by chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

The mage rebellion again, what were they rebelling against? And what does the chantry have to do with mages? Shepard frowns, and widens her stance, straitening her shoulders as she looks Solas in the eyes, “You came here to help- I won’t let them use that against you.”

“And how would you stop them?” Solas demands, raising an eyebrow.

Shepard raises her left hand, drawing attention to the green mark by wiggling her fingers, “People seem to need this mark and seeing as it’s attached to me I figure I’m in a safe enough position to keep you safe as well.”

He seems taken aback by her answer, “You are neither an elf nor a mage, why do you care?”

Its Shepard’s turn to raise an eyebrow-was the relationship between elves and humans bad then? As well as mages versus non mages? “You came here to help- it would be wrong to punish you for that.”

Solas merely blinks at her before responding, “Thank you.”

Shepard nods firmly, relaxing her stance, “I’ve taken enough of your time Solas, Thank you for humoring my questions.”

“I appreciate the chance to share my knowledge with someone willing to listen-should you have more I would be happy to answer any questions concerning the Fade to the best of my ability.”

Shepard smiles and nods her approval before turning and walking away, pondering what she’s learned over the course of this conversation. The mage rebellion had been mentioned around her before. Obviously mages were unhappy with how they were being treated if they are rebelling now and Solas seemed amazed she would even consider risking herself for his sake specifically because he was both a mage and an elf. This planet likely has issues with racism then, concerning the elves, and likely oppresses mages in some way – because of their power? Or because some of them can do as Solas does and explore the Fade in such a way? She needs more information especially since it seems like she might be here for a while. She’d start with Leliana and Cassandra, since they know of her status here and will not be surprised by her questioning and once she has a basis of information she can ask others for their views on things to get a better idea of what’s going on. Mind made up, Shepard heads toward the direction of her cabin, ready to rest for the day when a voice calls out to her.

“Hey Shepard!” Varric calls from close to a fire pit, “Put up your feet, you look like you got a demon on your tail the way your walking.”

Despite herself, Shepard finds herself grinning. She likes Varric.

“So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot- are you holding up alright? I mean you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful- most people would try to spread that out over more than one day.”

Shepard shakes her head slightly, “It’s been…rough. A lot of people died before I stabilized the Breach. I wonder if I’d been faster, stronger…” she shakes her head, “But it useless to dwell on it.”

Varric nods, his eyes kind, “A lot of good people died up there. But you remember those scouts up on the mountain top?” Shepard nods, “Well they managed to save a few of them and the rest got proper pyres. If you hadn’t asked that someone go and check for them, the entire squad probably would have died, so we have you to thank for that.”

Shepard nods, pleased, “I’m glad that they’re okay.”

Varric smiles, “You’re a good sort Shepard,” he turns toward the sky, the smile slipping from his face as he gazes towards the Breach, “You know, no one knew anything that was happening- the conclave exploded, thousands of people died and al we could do was stare at the sky as demons and maker knows what fell out of it. Bad for morale is an understatement.”

“We’ll seal the Breach,” Shepard says firmly, “Permanently next time.”

“Can it even be sealed? I don’t know about you but I’ve never heard of something like this happening before. Ask Chuckles maybe.”

“We have to,” Shepard responds, “Too many people are at stake for us to fail.”

Varric shakes his head, looking sad and amused all at once, “You might want to think about running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere- I’ve seen that. But a hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

Shepard shakes her head, “I’m not going to run Varric. I might not stick around after the Breach is sealed but too many people need me right now.”

“I figured you’d say that. You’re just like Hawke.”

“Friend of yours?”

Varric looks at her a little dumb founded, “Hawke? The Champion of Kirkwall? Ringing any bells?”

“…No?”

“I didn’t think there was anyone left who hadn’t heard the story!” He chuckles and reaches into his jacket, pulling out a battered book and handing it to Shepard, “It’s my best-selling novel based on the story of an apostate mage and her brother making their way to Kirkwall while fleeing the blight,” Varric’s voice took on a cadence to it, almost like a song or a rhyme, “but I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you- read it a get back to me.”

Shepard took the book with a chagrin smile. Unwittingly, Varric has likely given her the best possible tool to understanding this world. She tries to focus on her conversation with Varric but her eyes keep drifting towards the book in her hands. Eventually, Varric laughs and waves her off, telling her to enjoy her reading and looking like a cat that caught the canary. She steps away and heads toward the cabin she’d woken up in just a few hours ago, sits herself on the bed, opens a well loved and well worn copy of “The Tales of the Champion” and begins to read.

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I'm aware that saying "I'll protect you" is technically a romance only dialogue but my Shepard would never let anyone under her protection get got if she could help it.
> 
> Chapter title: "flying" by Sarah Arvio


	6. You can get there from here, though there's no going home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition is reborn

Shepard reads for the rest of the day and when the sun sets she reads by candle light (actual candles! Made of wax! The novelty of it will never fade, Shepard suspects) delicately turning each page with a gentleness she isn’t used too showing to anyone, much less a book. Varric had unwittingly given her the best gift to introduce her to this new world. Hawke was so accidentally intrinsic to everything that happened within the last ten or so of years that this book is perhaps the best summary of the current political climate of all of Thedas. Mages and Templars at eachothers throats- the mages simply wanting to experience the same rights and freedoms of everyone else and the Templars simply wanting to protect everyone from the dangers a mage faces every day. It’s very moralistically grey and Varric did an excellent job of capturing the two sides to the story. And Hawke, well, Shepard may be thirty years old but she hadn’t been this eager to meet someone since Blasto 9: Blast Harder came out on vid.

She lays on her straw bed and stares up at the ceiling through the darkness. Once upon a time, the mods in her eyes would have given her perfect night vision; now she sees only the impressions of shapes the shift and change depending on when she blinks. Her mind tumbles and spins with new information as she tries to process what she’s learned. This Blight, whatever it is, should be the first thing she inquires about in the morning to Cassandra or Leliana; it seems to be some sort of disease? In combination with an army? It sounds strange. Not to mention she has to ask if dragons are real. And giant spiders. She’d also have to ask for their input on what happened in Kirkwall to obtain a better understanding of how most people view Ander’s actions. While she can’t reward the man for what he did, Shepard understands him better perhaps then she would have liked, having blown up the Alpha Relay herself. The galaxy is full of necessary evil. And to Shepard? With the way it sounded the Mages were treated in Kirkwall, and perhaps the rest of this planet, a revolution of some sort was long in coming.

 _‘Best to keep that to myself,’_ Shepard thinks, _‘seeing as I’m currently in the midst of a chantry inspired peacekeeping force, or whatever the Inquisition is supposed to be.’_

Shepard closes her eyes, thinking of the Alpha Relay brings back memories and regrets, both good and bad. Shepard wonders if she would have done the same thing, given what she knows now and the power to travel time and she knows she would do it again. She thinks she would. She doesn’t like to think that she’s the kind of person who can let billions of people die and be willing to do it again. But she is, and she would.

With those dark thoughts circling her mind, Shepard falls asleep, no more sure of her place in this world then she was before.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_A grey forest surround her, the shadows of the lost filling the once empty forest like lingering regrets. The running child is not present but the smell of smoke is. She turns in place, trying to find a face amongst the shadowy crowd and hears only distant whispers. Her voice is muted as she tries to scream. From both right beside her and from far away the voices beseech her to save them but the shadow figures do not move, they only sway in place as tho caught between wanting to dance and not wanting to become part of the spot light._

_The whispers grow louder but they do not grow any more distinct. Shepard, caught in place, turns in circles looking for the burning child amongst the smoke and ashes and finds no one. The sounds of flames cracking joins the voices and the search grown more desperate. She raises her left hand and stares as green fire, so bright in this grey landscape, envelops her hand. The smell of cooking meat fills her lungs and suddenly she’s hungry, starving even, sixteen years old and the world is on fire. Her childhood home burns as the Batarians laugh and drink, the smell of cooking meat and smoke filling the area as her parents are burned alive. She’s so hungry. Her mouth salivates at the smell of her burning parents and the Batarians laugh as they reach for her, a small gun in one hand with the chip that will turn her into a mindless slave. The sting of the chip spurs her into action and she bite the hand that holds her down and digs the chip out with the knife she finds on his corpse later._

_She is on fire and burning meat smell fills the air. She is on fire and the grey forest shifts closer and further, teasing her with distance as she almost but not quite reaches for the child’s hand. She is on fire and a place of worship has been reduced to rubble and the bodies are still sizzling like cooking meat on her father’s grill, their faces twisted in eternal surprise, love, fear, sorrow as they die quicker then they know what’s happening. Some of the bodies are so small._

_She is on fire. She is on fire. She is on fire._

_‘Siha.’_

 

* * *

 

 

She wakes up.

Despite living on a ship most of her life and having no sun to wake her by, Shepard’s body remembers what it means to rise with the sun- years of playing the simple farm girl have instilled in her that much. Light filters through a dusty window and, for a moment, she lays their watching the dust dance carelessly. Cool sweat dots her forehead, sliding down her cheek like a caress. She’ll have to ask about bathing here. Carefully, she breathes in, the smell of ice and cold and horse manure fill her nose. She breathes out. Again and again, until her mind is blank and her heart is calm.

She sits up, she dresses, she starts again. The river around the stone. Forward, forward, forward until she can finally reach the sea.

She dresses carefully, slowly, layering herself against the world. She straightens her shoulders, she relaxes her face, she breathes. She opens the door to this brand new world and marches forward. She is Commander Shepard. She nods to the soldier saluting her and heads towards the chantry, Varric’s book in hand. She’ll go over it with him later, but first she needs to know how the chantry responded to what happened. How things led to this point. Why. She needs to fit in, blend. Become a person to these people who are putting her on a pedestal she doesn’t deserve. In the room where the Inquisition was reborn stands Cassandra and Leliana. They quiet at her approach, obviously having been talking about her before she walked in. Shepard is too old to care. She places Varric’s Copy of ‘The Tale of the Champion’ on the table. Immediately, Leliana’s face blanks and Cassandra has a scowl on her face.

“I have some question about what happened in this book that I can’t ask Varric,” Shepard states, leaving no room for argument.

Cassandra nods, suspicion or perhaps wariness in her eyes. Shepard continues, “What happened after Ander’s? To the other circles? Why did they rebel?”

“The circles began to rise against the Templars one by one. Then it was discovered that the Chantry had known of a cure for Tranquility. The action of Anders in Kirkwall and the news of what the other mages had faced under Meredith’s rule got out and more circles rebelled. A vote was held and Grand Enchanter Fiona declared the mages free.”

Shepard nods, “And what is Tranquility, exactly?”

“It is a method used to separate mages from the Fade, sealing away their emotions and thus preventing them from being tempted by demons.”

“So you lobotomize them.”

“What?”

“It’s an ancient technique where I’m from where a small hole is drilled into the head and pieces of the brain are damaged or removed in order to control the behavior of patients doctors had declared ill for whatever reason.”

“That sounds barbaric!” Cassandra’s eyes are wide and her brows furrowed. Shepard stares at her and wonders if she sees the irony in that statement. Probably not. Best not to argue the finer points of Tranquility at the moment.

Shepard spent the better part of the morning questioning the two- moving on from the mage rebellion to the Blight to the Hero of Fereldan to the current politics between Fereldan and its neighboring countries to the money that this planet uses. Shepard took it all in, adding it to what she had gathered already. They seem utter surprised by her questions each time, and every time she asks a clarifying question she’s met with incredulity, but they answer each time. She leaves the questioning session feeling more confident in her ability to interact safely with those around her without utterly making an obvious fool of herself. As she leaves the building she spots Commander Cullen walking up towards the door with a parchment in his hand.  He hammers it to the door, drawing the gaze of those nearby. As he steps away she spots the same eye shape that had been on the black book Cassandra had used to declare the Inquisition. At near the same time, two banner unfurled like birds, waving their colors proudly in the sky. In her commoner clothes she could hear the people whisper of the Inquisition- good and bad things. Quieter more awe-filled whispers follow-quiet whispers of the Herald of Andraste, come to save them all.  

As the eyes of the Inquisition stare proudly, Shepard feels a seed of dread bloom deep in her stomach. She has a feeling she’s going to be here a while.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "Life Is Fine", Langston Hughes
> 
> all chapter titles have been changed in case anyone's interested
> 
> Not overly proud of this chapter, it's really just an intermission. Next stop: the hinterlands.


	7. It produces the most questions in the minds of children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the hinterlands

They head to the hinterlands on horseback. There had been a rather amusing (in retrospect) time in which Cassandra taught her the basics of horse riding and Shepard took to it like a duck to water. She'd never ridden before, but the horse, Blue, is gentle and tame and Shepard had fallen instantly in love, sneaking her oats when the others aren't looking as a sort of game to keep herself occupied. Blue is more than happy to oblige her. However, after several hours or riding SHepard is more than happy to get off Blue for a well needed break. They water the horses and decide to rest for an hour. Blue sticks close to her, grazing near by, no doubt hoping for treats. A well thought out move, as Shepard discretely tosses back an apple core over her shoulder while Blue huffs in appreciation. Varric and Cassandra are caught up in some petty argument but Solas catches her eye and smirks, gaze flickering to Blue behind her and obviously having caught her out. She shrugs and smirks back, unashamed. After their hour break passes they climb back up the horses, Shepard personally wincing with every other step Blue takes. For a week they travel, Shepard eventually falling into complaining with Varric who was equally sore but much less pleased with his mare then Shepard. His defense being that he's "a city dwarf through and through". Through the week she learns much of what she doesn't know about this world as she often has to dodge around conversations from her companions. She often finds herself simply listening in and learning, which suits Shepard fine as she prefers to listen at any rate.

On the seventh day they reach the Inquisition scouts and a dwarf (which Shepard has learned are a separate race from humans on this world) by the name of Harding updates them on the surrounding area. After a short rest and leaving the horses in the Inquisition's care (Shepard feeding Blue some last minute oats behind Cassandra and Varric's back, much to Solas's amusement) they head their way down to the crossroads - engaging in Templars and Mages along the way and failing to appease either side.

The small village is in shambles as refugees litter the streets. A little girl cries, pulling the skirts of an older woman and holding her stomach. As a group they approach Mother Giselle, seeking guidance like everyone else here.

"Mother Giselle?"

"I am," she says, standing from where she'd knelt beside a soldier, "and you must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste."

Shepard manages not to let her face twist in horror, "I wish they wouldn't," she says frankly, "I speak for no one but myself"

"Perhaps, but could it not be said that the Maker speaks through us all? We do not choose the roles we play." She doesn't sound insistent on proving Shepard wrong which is good of her. They speak for a time, discussing the nature of faith and the situation with the chantry. All Shepard can feel is an overwhelming sense of dread; the last thing she needs is more politics in her life.

As Mother Giselle walks away Shepard turns towards her companions, "Go and talk to the people here and find out what they need."

"Should we not focus on finding Master Dennet?" asks Cassandra, tho there is no protest in her voice, only curiosity.

"The people here likely know more about the lay of the land and the situation then our scouts do so it would be good to question them but beyond that," she trails off, the child's crying has turned to sniffling as her mother tries to soothe her hunger with words. It won't work, Shepard knows, "we should help these people."

With that they disperse throughout the village, agreeing to meet in one hour. Shepard heads to the small stall she sees first - no one knows better then a Merchant whether or not the roads are safe. The merchant's eyes are sunk in a little and his cheeks hollow - it has been a while since his last full meal. He looks tired. His lack of wares tell a similar story - there's been no commerce in this area for a while and no time, or safety, to restock on supplies. The small amount of coin Cassandra gave her weighs heavy in Shepard's pocket as she scans the wares but not as heavy as the desperation in his eyes. Shepard slips him a few of the silver coins in exchange for elfroot and gossip.

"Bridge to the west is broken," the merchant mumbles, "some Templars 've made made camp near it I think - stole most've my goods when I came that way."

"Templars are attacking civilians?"

"They don't care," he grumbles bitterly, "killed my husband when this mess started for selling walking sticks - claimed they were staves. Chantry always claimed they were here to protect us from mages but they're jus' bandits in better armour," he turns from her, blinking hard and face crumpled. Shepard examines her elfroot closely. He shifts and says, "you here to put a stop to this mess?" Shepard nods, "Here," he says gruffly, shoving several small packs of herbs into her arms, "can't afford to give way all my wares but these are bout to turn anyway."

They meet eyes- his gleam slightly in the afternoon light but they are determined and angry. Shepard understands that.

"I can't bring back your husband," she begins slowly but without pity, "but we will do what we can to fix things."

He nods and turns, dismissing her as he begins to pack his wares away. Its early yet but Shepard knows he won't be selling anything else today. For the rest of the hour she continues in this way, talking to people, gathering information. Everyone has lost someone. Some cy out- their emotional pain turning physical while others staring stoicly as they relate the ways mages and templars alike killed their loved ones or raided their homes or stole their things. Many give her things like the merchant mumbling all the while, please, if you can help, please take it. She makes the same vow every time and it gains more weight with each utterance until her shoulder slump under it.

With the sun high in the sky she heads towards the meeting place to meet her companions who each look as weary as she feels. They leave in silence, each lost in thought as they head back towards the Inquisition camp. As they break for lunch they sit in a loose circle each not quite looking at the others. Shepard pulls forward her pack and the other's eyes train on her. She pulls out the many herbs she's been given, the family dricks and daggers, the jars of preserved fruit until there is a small pile compiled before her. A moment's pause as they observe and she is followed by the others. Some of the items are useless - a bow to old and on the edge of breaking, a dagger with a missing hilt - while others are priceless - a shield well forged and well loved bearing the king's seal, precious potions. A doll well loved in a handmade dressed from a little girl with old eyes. For a few moments there is silence as they take in the items before them before a scout comes over to collect the items, a familiar sad gleam in their eyes.

"The Templars are camping near the westward road, by a broken bridge - they've been attacking anyone who travels the road," Shepard shares.

"The people have no food or blankets," Varric begins, "There's no banneron so we can hunt ram for food and the mages have stashes hidden throughout witchwood."

"That is where the apostates are hiding," Cassandra gruffs, "they have also been attacking travelers."

"The people here are in need of a healer. There is also a man whose wife suffers the cough and their son who knows the potion to help has joined a cult to the west. I have done what I can for her but she will need the potion," says Solas.

Silence falls as they contemplate what has been said. Shepard plans out of corse of action. She thinks of people who have nothing to give giving all they have anyway.

"We head west first, to take care of the Templar encampment," the others look ready to protest but Shepard holds up a hand, silently demanding their attention, "Templars first. The mages will keep to the forest and most travelers will follow the road which the Templars have taken over. We'll head to Dennet after to see about horses. Head south into the woods to take care of the mages and gather the blankets and other supplies and then head East towards the cult to take care of the boy as we establish a better presence in the area. The meat will have to be last so that it doesn't turn before we have a chance to give it to the people. We'll see about a healer along the way."

The others digest her plan in silence but Cassandra has an odd look in her eyes, "You've done this before, haven't you?"

Shepard only nods.

They finish their meal in silence. Shepard thinks of the people she talked to and wonders if the others are doing the same. Soon they stand, each of the other's falling into behind her with ease. It unnerves her a little bit. They follow the west road, eventually coming upon the broken bridge that the merchant had described. They're in sight of it for barely a few seconds when they are attacked by the Templars.

Fighting Templars, Shepard decides, is a bit like fighting Geth Shock Troopers-  all heavy armour and charging forward, depending on their opponent to be less heavily armoured than them- which against mages would be an advantage. Instead, they are a mixed group of different skill sets and that makes all the difference.

In the weeks following her awakening in this new world, Shepard has already disassembled and reassembled her crossbow several times- learning how it works inside and out. She practiced near constantly with Varric, who had been more than happy to give her advice, on the finer points of fighting with crossbow. That training comes in handy now as, while she is by no means an expert the way Varric is, she is no longer just as likely to hit one of her companions as she is the enemy. She weaves among the enemy now, finding vulnerable spots and exploiting them, herding the Templars into the other's line of fire or causing them to crash into one another as they try to avoid her shots. An Engineer shapes the battlefield, her CO has said a few lifetimes ago,Let the soldiers and Vanguards go charging in guns blazing. You're there to make sure they get as many in one go as possible.

She shoots a Templar in the back, they don't stumble - too well trained for that-, but they do turn towards her allowing Solas to strike them in the back with a blast of energy. They fall down, dead.

With that, the battle ends with the Templar encampment cleared out. They rifle through the pockets of the ded, searching for anything useful. Shepard finds a nicely balanced dagger with a side holster that she straps on, Cassandra a sword made of stronger steel than her own. What they can't carry they mark on a map for Inquisition scouts to pick up and to build a pyre for the dead. They move on, the water shallow enough to cross with little difficulty. On their way to Dennet's they fight mostly scattered groups of bandits, occasionally templars, all of which are quickly disposed of. They have quickly become a well oiled machine - each part working in harmony with the others. Cassandra draws the enemies with her taunts, Varric takes advantage of the chaos to strike from the shadows, Solas alternating between casting protective barriers where needed and raining deadly fire and ice on the enemey, and all the hwile Shepard shapes the battles to her heart's content thus ensuring the other can do their own jobs to the best o their ability. This unspoken stratedgy in place, they make it to Dennet's by dusk.

Dennet is a gruff man with a good heart, Shepard decides as she hears out his conditions to which she agrees readily. IN return for her easy compliance Dennet offers his storage room for their use for the night. That night they sit on the floor, quietly conversing.

"I have never seen anyone fight the way you do, Herald," Cassandra states.

Shepard shrugs, taking  bite of slightly hard bread, "Easy enough when you know how people work, how they react under fire. Know that and shaping the battle becomes easy."

"You've fought many battles then?" Solas asks.

She nods, mouth full, and swallows, thinking her on her words carefully, "I was part of Ostagar," a lie carefully constructed by Lelian, no doubt backed up by now by documents and at least ten people who would swear to her being there, "I promised myself to make sure a battle never goes that way again," almost true - she did swear such a thing on Akuze.

"Darkspawn aren't people though - they don;t think the same if they think at all," says Varric.

"Battle is instinct," says Cassandra, "You sense an opponent behind you so you block, you see an opening and you strike. One does not think when the blade is coming down - they act."

"Exactly," says Shepard, "I've spent years studying how people react in battle and I take advantage of that by being two steps ahead."

"Thus bending the battle to your will," Solas muses.

The topic drifts after that. Varric tries to poke his way through her Ostagar story but Shepard nimbly changes the topic each time. Eventually, conversation wears thin and the sun has fully set so they prepare for the night. Camping together for the past week as made them more comfortable around each other and the others quickly drop to sleep.

Shepard lies awake, staring out the small window towards the sky, The breach is still shining green but it's farther now, Not as all encompassing as it is at Haven. Here, the stars are still visible. Each planet has different constellations - she's known this since she was a child  - so she doesn't feel melancholy for her own stars. What she feels is softer than that, quieter. Harder to encompass in words. There are crickets chirping outside, playing little songs as owls hoot in the night. Her companions breathing disturbs the silence - Solas snores just a little bit - but they are all deep in their sleep. She envies them that. She watches the stars and tries to find shapes in them; watches them until they are burned into her eyes so that when they eventually close she can still seem them. Pinpricks of light against the void.        

The sun spills over the mountain tops and into the valley. The owl settles in for sleep as the blue jay awakens - two ships passing the the quiet dawn. Sunlight creeps along the land, gently nudging the world awake. Light crawls into the shed - illuminating the face of one already awake. Shepard always did love sunrises. She watches quietly from her seat by the window, the side of her head resting gently against the glass. You can tell a lot about a planet's atmosphere by watching the sun rise.She watches Dennet stand on his porch, acting as guardian of this land and the people here. She watches the druffalo fraze and the smaller druffalo huddle close to the larger ones - their thick fur not yet grown in to protect them from the morning chill. The glass is cool against Shepard's face and the draft coming in is crisp with the coming autumn. For a while Shepard just breathes taking in the way the world yawns awake.

When perhaps thirty minutes have passed she turns from the window to wake her sleeping companions, they have a long day ahead of them after all, only to find Solas sitting up and watching her. She blinks at him and he nods in greeting. He stands then, beginning to gather his sleeping pack together and the movement draws both Cassandra and Varric out of their sleep. Together, they rise to face the dawn and all it brings.

They start their day first by hunting down the errant wolves. Their vicious in the way of a wolf pack threatened but not as one united.

"The Breach has driven them mad," explains Solas, "or perhaps a demon has taken control of the pack," Cassandra strips the dead wolves of their pelts - Shepard feels simultaneously horrified by the sight and fascinated. She watches carefully so that she can learn to do it herself.

"If we can help the wolves we should," says Shepard, still watching Cassandra work, "They're important to maintaining a healthy forest."

"Explain to the old city dwarf - how are wolves important?"

"Wolves hunt Ram - If there were no wolves the Ram population would grow. More Rams means they eat more food which means less trees, herbs, and foliage. Less trees means less birds who carry the seeds which leads to even less trees. And with people growing in population using up the resources of the forest, no wolves means the forest won't be able to sustain itself."

"Huh, never thought of it that way," Varric muses, "You study nature then, Shepard?"

She shrugs, the truth is that she doesn't really- this is all basic information she learned when she was in school, but since it's not common knowledge here it would be hard to pull it off as simply as that, "I find it interesting but I'm not an expert."

With pelts gathered they move on- heading into the ravine where the wolf growls seem to echo from all around. They each keep their weapons at the ready. Shepard hopes it won't come to destroying the pack. Eventually, when the are deep in the ravine the pack attacks all at once, long-limb demon the color of the breach and the head of a wolf's skull attack, vicious and quick.

"Focus on the demon!" Shepard shouts, dodging a lunging wolf. It's hard work but they manage to strike the demon down, it's body dissolving leaving behind only the wolf skull head. Immediately the wolves freeze, as do Shepard and her companions. They are surrounded, the wolves watching them and their ears perked up, utterly still. For a moment Shepard mourns - it seems they'll have to kill the wolves after all. Then, miraculously, a slim gray wolf step forward, body language relaxed and a pendent hanging from its mouth. It heads straight towards Shepard, stopping before her and looking at her with intelligence in its gaze. Curious, Shepard steps forward and kneels before the wolf, palm extended outward. The wolf drops the pendent in her hands and walks away, the other wolves following gracefully. Only when the rest of the wolves are out of sight do the others relax but Shepard is only looking at the pendent. A wolf's canine tooth, but larger, almost the size of her hand from the finger to the edge of her palm and strange lettering carved around its entirety.

"A gift from the pack," murmurs Solas, "for freeing them from their binds."

She blinks, contemplate for a moment, and slips the cord over her head. She looks around the glen - both sides of the fight seemed to have gotten away with minimum damage. A rare, good thing.

"We still need to mark the spots for watchtowers - let's go."

The continue on, marking spots for future watch towers and occasionally fighting bandits. When the sun hits its apex they break for lunch. They are quiet mostly. Shepard fiddles with her new pendent and Cassandra catches her eye, "It was a good thing you did, saving the wolves."

Shepard, not knowing what to say, merely nods, Cassandra continues, "It would have been easier to kill them all then to free them, but you chose the harder path because it was the right thing to do. I see now that my assumptions of you were wrong."

Shepard wonders if she's speaking of the attack on the conclave or the revelation that she is not of this world. The passion and determination in Cassandra's eyes could mean either or both.

"It's not at though you didn't have reason to doubt me," Shepard points out.

Cassandra smiles, a small crooked thing, and takes a bite out of her bread.

"You got the seeker to admit she was wrong? You really are the Herald of Andraste aren't you?" Varric chortles and Cassandra's smile is immediately replaced by a scowl.

they continue to snipe at each other and Shepard huffs in amusement. Her face softens as she watches them, a tension de didn’t know she was carrying untangling itself softly. Varric and Cassandra nettle each other while solas pokes at both of them with little comments meant to keep the argument going. She chuckles at a particularly sly comment by Solas drawing the three’s attention to her, “Now children play nice,” she chuckles again at twin looks of disgust by Varric and Cassandra- Solas hides a grin behind a cough.

With that, Shepard stands brushing dirt off herself as she does so and the others soon follow her. They walk until they find an Inquisition camp and Shepard put in the requisition to have soldiers come and build the watch towers; the sooner the better. From there they heading towards witchwood as planned, following the ice jutting out of the ground like hands reaching out.

The forest is beautiful but damaged. Signs of recent battle scarring the trees and wildlife. They mark the spots where they find hidden stashes of supplies for the crossroads. The further they go in the forest the more ice breaks through the earth towards the sky. Eventually the happen upon a large field before a cave, completely encased in ice and wisps of light floating between the pillars. Mages aren’t exactly subtle are they? But do they deserve to die for it? The Templars attacked them on sight, seeing Solas as an immediate target and them mage sympathizers for defending against the assault. Perhaps the mages could be different?

They approach carefully, hands close to their weapons but not drawn, the way they had with the Templars. It doesn’t matter tho- they are immediately attacked by the mages milling about the area, flurries of lightning, fire, and ice coming towards them. They each dash in different directions, quickly entering the battle ready to kill despite the head start the mages have on them.

Fighting mages is different then templars but not in the ways you’d expect. It’s a bit like fighting biotics actually, except mages tend to stay in one place. They’re less heavily armoured yes but their spells can torch any bolt before it reaches their skin. Unlike Templars who Shepard can herd to her liking, mages need to be worn down first. Pelting them with bolts from every direction works fine in depleting their barriers or distracting them so thoroughly that the others can strike them down. When the last mage falls they do as they did in the Templar encampment and search the area for supplies. Solas finds a new stave

that ‘channels the energy of the fade more efficiently,’ or something similar to that.

They leave the cave and go through the forest. It’s been a good few days, destroying the Templar and Mage encampments but Shepard can’t bring herself to feel good about either. But people are safer now, her feelings on the matter don’t count for much in this situation- only the people. Solas stops suddenly, head tilted to the side as though he were listening to something as he stares off into the distance.

“In the fade I found artifacts for measuring the veil - i believe there is one nearby. Activating it may bring some stability to this area.”

Shepard nods and gestures for Solas to take the lead. He looks momentarily surprised before nodding back and striding forward. Solas moves as though this were a path he’d walked a hundred times before. Shepard wonders what it’s like to traverse this world’s fade and find hidden secrets like this one.

The sounds of battle reach them and they break into a brisk jog coming across an elven mage fighting demons. Quickly, they join the battle, together bringing down the demons quickly. The elf i dressed different than the ones she’s seen around haven, more scraps of strewn together leather and cotton and fur than anything else. She has tattoos spanning across her the edges of her face, three thick lines that cross over the center of her forehead, spanning the sides of her face and coming together in one branch like line on either side of her face. Shepard wonders if she is one of the Dalish mentioned in Varric’s book.

“My thanks, human, I am Mihris. Are you perhaps here for the same reasons as myself?”

“My name’s Shepard. We’re searching for an artifact, we think it might be in the nearby ruins.”

“I see, I too am searching for these ruins and I believe them to be nearby. Perhaps we can work together in achieving our goals?”

Something about Mihris unsettles Shepard but she pushes past it, nodding her consent. they walk towards the edge of the ruins and something in Mihris demeanor changes as her gaze shifts to Solas, “You, flat-ear, can you manage it?” there is derision in her voice and Shepard is instantly taken aback.

Solas doesn’t stiffen but is voice is biting as he answers, “Ma Nuvenin, Da len.”

He raises his hands and with it the rubble rises and reforms the pillars into the form they once were. It’s...flashier then what Shepard has come to expect from Solas. Abruptly she catches on, Flat Ear is a slur. But why would an elf throw slurs at another elf? Shepard is less than enthused to work with Mihris now. They are attacked by demons once more as they walk in, witch, with the five of them together, are quickly bested.

“It’s always ancient ruins filled with demons, isn’t it?” Varric grumbles.

They step forward and Shepard spots a torch on the side of the room. She touches it, thinking of light and warmth and suddenly it’s there. Green, like the breach and flickering as though it weren’t an impossible flame. The sudden appearance of flame causes her to jump back, startled, and Cassandra catches her by the arm, steadying her.

“Fascinating - this is veilfire: the memory of flame brought to life. While you aren’t a mage, the mark must have given you some access to the fade similar to one,” Solas says, green light giving his face an ominous shadow to it.

Shepard flexes her left hand, holding it slightly away from herself, “what does that mean?”

“Likely that you will be more sensitive to the fade and subsequently the veil then your average non-mage. Your dreams may be more clear as well but you are by no mean a mage merely...sensitive,” he sounds curious, he reminds her of Liara for a moment.

“this is all well and good but we should keep moving,” interrupts Mihris. Shepard grabs the torch and holds it aloft green light flickering in an attempt to imitate flame but it is without warmth.

They head in deeper in the green light illuminating the high ceilings and the walls carved with images and runes. The air here feels old - the place obviously hasn't been disturbed in a long time. Shepard finds herself making her footsteps light, her breathing quiet, as though she could disturb this place as little as possible by making herself smaller.

Of course it is at the moment that demons crawl out of the fade. Shepard drops the veilfire - its light going out the second it falls from her hands and she curses. If only she still had her eye implants! The only light comes from the magic Mihris and Solas throw around and the eerie glow that some of the spirits give off but shooting is too dangerous without knowing where the others are. She drops to the ground searching for the torch as Cassandra lets out a pained grunt. Finding it once more, Shepard imagines the brightest, strongest flame she can and brings it to life. The battle is strange unter green light. Immediately, Cassandra strikes out against a demon that had been hassling her - Shepard dodges back from one’s claws. Solas shoots a fireball and the thing screeches its rage as it swipes her once more, catching her arm this time. Shepard  grunts and the thing dissolves, engulfed by flames. The battle ends quickly after that.

There’s silence for a moment and then, “Maybe don’t drop the night light next time,” varric chuckles.

Shepard huffs out a laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With the ruin empty they head towards an orb in the back. It responds to the anchor, flaring to life and a green glow encompassing it.

“Good, with the artifact activated the veil should be strengthened here..”

“And it looks like the Ancestors left something for me as well! Its been good working with you Shepard but it’s time for me to move on.”

solas says something then in a language Shepard doesn’t understand but it brings pause to Mihris, who stumbles over her words before handing a small amulet over to Solas. With Mihris gone they explore the ruin more, finding ancient writings and old pottery. Shepard wonders what people used this for once upon a time. At one point they find a veilfire rune with a recipe for a rune that is apparently more efficient than the ones more popularly made with Lyrium.

When they leave the ruin it’s dusk. Shepard’s arm throbs but she ignores it in favor of examining the colors of the sky. They’ll have to make camp somewhere soon and there’s still more work to be done in order to stabilize the area. There’s so much to do and Shepard already feels so tired.

She watches the sunset and thinks of the stars, of ships and galaxies far away. She hopes she can help the people here before she leaves.

 

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title, "The War Works Hard" by Dunya Mikhail
> 
> this is the longest chapter yet but i figured every good fic needs at least one good hinterlands chapter and this will be the only one so we never have to deal with the hinterlands again! yeay!
> 
> to explain: i find the dialogue about veilfire to be really really dumb if the inquisitor isn't a mage and fucking solas lights the veilfire like 'oh i've never seen veilfire before!!11!one!' like solas you legit just lit it yourself don't even.
> 
> Also the only way i could legit see why veilfire runes as being a big deal would be if they were somehow different then regular lyrium runes which, considering none of them require lyrium dust to make, i figure the ancient elves made runes without lyrium. 
> 
> but no worries; Shepard will not magically become a mage. I just need her to be able to fucking light veilfire.


	8. Crumbling is not an instant's act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the cracks begin to show

The following weeks spent in the Hinterlands can only be described as slow. They did good work, yes, but without the vehicles Shepard is used to everything moves much more slowly then what she's used to. Especially since without lights beyond candle or mage light there was no way to perform activities at night with any ease. So time in the Hinterlands passes slow but it by no means uneventful. The cult, for instance, was turned towards helping the people of the crossroads and the boy who made potions for his mother was sent home. Food was gathered for the crossroads, as were the blankets, mercenary and bandit camps alike were cleared out, the watchtowers were built and a lost druffalo was returned home.

 

The people of the HInterlands seem more hopeful. There are no children crying out from hunger in the crossroads and the faces of the people seem more bright and hopeful. Everyone is eager to shake their hand and thank them for what they've done. It's odd, Shepard's never stuck around to see the affects of what she's done before.

 

During all this the four of them got to know each other better. Shepard learned that Cassandra is a morning person while Varric and Solas are most definitely not. She learns how to fight around them and with them and how to tell when one of them is hiding a hurt or exhaustion and they learn the same of each other and of her. More than once the others have woken up only to find her awake and discussing the scout's intel with those on watch or trading gossip or even just watching the sunrise. They don't baby her - she's too old for that and they aren't that familiar with one another - but they do participate in quiet conversation with her or bring her rations or watch the sunrise with her. It's nice. While she does posses the title of Herald (through no choice of her own) she hold no rank over them like she does back home, it makes things easier and harder at once. Easier to become friends, harder because it's been so long since she's had to interacts with anyone without her rank playing some part in it.

 

The trip back to Haven is lighter than the trip to the Hinterlands. There's more conversation between the four of them and they each are more relaxed, trusting in the other's ability to watch each other's backs. It almost feels familiar to Shepard which is unnerving - getting attached is a bad idea. It usually is. But watching the three of them, it's hard not to. They're good people, each of them.

 

When they reach Haven it's mid-morning. Shepard wishes Blue a soft goodbye with a friendly brush of her mane and some oats before following the others into the walls of Haven. Having lived side by side for so long it feels odd going separate ways now but they do so. Shepard wants to head straight for her cabin and sleep for hours but there are things to do. Namely she needs to check in Cullen and the rest to see whether or not approaching the clerics is feasible at this point. She heads to the chantry, bone weary. She pulls aside a messenger along the way, requesting that they gather the rest of the group. The chantry is warm on the inside, the flames burning brightly. She smiles at those she passes, feeling uncomfortable with the way they bow so deeply to her. She tries to ignore it, instead entering the war council room and practically collapsing into a chair. She leans against the table with her elbows, face in her hands as she sighs deeply.

 

There is no time for weakness tho, soon the door opens and Shepard is already standing straight and tall, adopting an unaffected mask. Leliana walks in, followed closely by Cullen and Joesphine. Cassandra trails in last, none of her exhaustion peeking through despite weeks in the field and on the road- Shepard envy's her that.

 

"You've done good work in the Hinterlands, Herald," begins a woman with darker skin and hair, "We have already received reports of your compassion and heroism in closing the rifts and helping the refugees. Stories of your ability to seal the rifts are already spreading and we've received several missives regarding it."

 

"Enough influence has been gained that we can call for a meeting with the remaining clerics," says Leliana, "A few days of rest and then Val Royeaux should be your next stop- we've agreed to meet them in  three weeks time."

 

“Do we have a plan of action? What’s the Inquisition's stance on what’s happening?” Shepard asks.

 

The others look at one another in surprise, even Leliana seems taken aback.

 

“The Inquisition has yet to make an official stance on the the Mage and Templar conflict. As for the Breach our current stance is simply that we must close it and apprehend those responsible.” Josephine states.

 

Shepard frowns but says nothing. They need to make a decision soon, “You know how I feel about this Herald business,” Shepard begins, the others watch her carefully, “I won’t give people hope that I’m something I don’t believe in. I hope that you all can respect that.”

 

They don’t look happy but no one raises any objections. Cassandra’s scowl in particularly is especially grumpy. Cullen, tho, looks at her with some respect. The new woman looks interested in something, “Forgive me Lady Hera-Shepard. We have yet to be Acquainted. I am Josephine Montilyet, and the Ambassador for the Inquisition. Lady Nightingale has informed me of your situation. That you claim to be of...another world?”

 

Shepard wants to cringe but doesn’t, “Yes.”

 

“You do realize how crazy that sounds, right?” Cullen asks.

 

Shepard sighs, not bothering to hide it, “And magic, demons, and a hole in the sky aren’t crazy?”

 

“Well, yes, when you put it that way I suppose it does seem reasonable. But I hope you know how insane it still sounds.”

 

“Trust me, I know. If I had proof for you I’d offer it but the way I hear it I fell out of that rift naked as the day I was born. Nothing from my world was carried over with me, I’ve got nothing but my word- hopefully I can prove that word trustworthy over time.”

 

Cullen nodded again, seemingly satisfied, but Josephine simply looked fascinated. She said nothing, but Shepard has a feeling next time they talk will contain a lot of questions for her to answer. With that, the council is dismissed as they leave Josephine calls out to her, Shepard smirks a little and follows her into a side room.

 

Josephine clears the room of spectators and asks her to sit down, which Shepard does. Josephine fiddles with items on her desk, busying her hands. Eventually she sits down as well and looks towards Shepard, “Lady Shepard, I hoped that you could tell me more about your world, both for my own curiosity and to help us fabricate a story to better explain anything that others may find odd.”

 

Shepard nods surprised and pleased at Josephine's honesty. No doubt this information will make it back to the others, or the at least Leliana, “I’ll answer the best I can but I was never a scholar,” Shepard warns.

 

“Of course. I suppose the best place to start is your own role in your world. What is your background?”

 

Shepard huffs out a laugh, “that may sound simple but trust me it’s not,” she sighs, “Well, I’m a soldier with a specialty as an Engineer. I guess that would be a bit of a cross between a medic and a...mage maybe? That’s not the best description. There’s no magic where I’m from.”

 

“no magic?” Josephine sounds shocked, “I know you said so before but I suppose I did not believe...but no matter. Most non mages don’t know much of mages to begin with- your own lack of knowledge will not be noticeable. What can you tell me of where you’re from?”

 

Shepard sighs again, heavier this time, “For one we are at war with something larger then you can possible imagine. Enough to unite the entire galaxy to fight it. Imagine a threat big enough to get the mages and the templars to set aside their differences and for your Tevinter to ally with the south. That’s what we up against,” Josephine looks shocked at the idea of it, “I can’t really tell you much more than that. There were good people and bad people. Humans and nonhumans. But there’s just no frame of reference to really tell you what it’s like. It would take hours.”

 

“I’m sorry Lady Shepard that sounds...dire. I understand your desire to return as quickly as possible and I appreciate you staying with us to help close the Breach. I’m afraid I don’t understand a term you used, “galaxy” was it?”

 

Shepard rubs her temples

 

The conversations lasts for a while. Shepard goes into as much detail as possible while explaining in terms Josephine can understand and relate to. Aliens were easier to explain then she expected and the idea of an omnitool much harder. She expected Josephine to take notes, instead she merely listens intently and smiles shyly when Shepard mentions it, saying she has a very good memory and that it's safer this way.

 

When she leaves she feels better about being here. Maybe Josephine is just a very good faker but she seemed to believe everything Shepard was saying which was nice. It was nice to just talk about home. She misses it. She doesn’t miss the war and the death and the Reapers, no. But talking about aliens and technology and politics of all things brought back how alien she is to this world.

 

She walks aimlessly as she thinks, eventually walking into a tavern. She sits at the bar and orders a drink, nursing it quietly to her chest. She has to be more careful now with alcohol, without her implants to help her processes it she won’t be able to processes it the way she used to.

 

She thinks of home. She hasn’t allowed herself the luxury lately, being stuck here. She realizes that she’s been thinking of this world as just another mission. A long-term one maybe but a mission none the less. But this isn’t a mission, no matter how she’d like to think of it that way, she needs to remember that she’s stuck here with no extraction team in the wings to get her out when the day is done.

 

She takes a sip of her beer. It’s watered down and warm but Shepard doesn’t notice the taste. What has she been doing these last few weeks? The Reapers are still a threat until she sees their remains with her own two eyes, and here she is taking a break on this backwater planet practically taking a vacation. She scowls into her drink. She’s disappointed in herself for not working harder to find a way home. She’s only one woman, her affect on the galaxy is minimal at best. But she should be there whether it be for the end of all life in her galaxy or the victory over the Reapers. She should be there. Instead she’s here with no fucking clue how to get home!

 

“You stare any harder at your drink and it might just catch fire.”

 

She jolts and Varric chuckles from beside her, pulling up in the seat next to her. She tries to muster up a grin but she can tell she failed by the way Varric’s own grin shifts into a look of concern.

 

“So why are you sitting here by yourself Nightlight?” Varric asks, his voice an undertone to avoid being overheard.

 

Shepard chuckles, “Not gonna let that go are you?”

 

“Material like that? Never!”

 

Shepard chuckles again and sighs, “I need to go home, Varric,” she stares hard into her beer, “I left behind a mess Varric. Bigger than the one here believe it or not. And I need...I can’t leave that behind. But I don’t know how to get back.”

 

Varric is silent for a moment, “I left behind a mess too ya know, in kirkwall,” he raises a hand, signalling the bartender for a drink, “Can’t imagine a mess bigger than this one but seeing you in action well...I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t seen everything so if you say it’s bigger I believe you,” the drink comes and Varric takes a long drink from it, setting it down with a thump, “Maybe talk to the Nightingale about getting back? She has a lot of connections, more than me even. If anyone can get you back to where you need to be she could but....well. You’re mark is the only thing that can close the Breach as far as we know. I can’t make you stay. Pretty sure anyone who’d try would only end up dead. But the people here need you too.”

 

They are both silent for a long time, nursing their drinks.

 

“I’ll stay, until the Breach is closed, I’ll stay,” Shepard says, “Hell it’s not like I know how to get home anyway. But Varric...I mean it when I say my home needs me more. If the opportunity to go back comes up I’ll take it.”

 

“Hell Shepard won’t the Breach affect them there too?” he’s beginning to sound angry now and Shepard straightens in response, “I mean this thing affects the whole damn world.”

 

They don’t look at each other but they’re both tense. Varric is angry, understandably so and Shepard doesn’t know if she can trust him or even should. She sighs. She’s been doing that a lot lately, “You’re gonna have to trust me when I say this is even bigger than the Breach.”

 

Varric heaves a sigh of his own and downs his drink quickly. The tenseness seems to flee him, then, “Like I said before, if you say it’s bigger I believe you just...try to close the Breach before you go. A lot of people are going to die otherwise.”

 

“I’ve done things more impossible than that before. I have faith that we can do.”

 

Topic change then, moving on to lighter things. There’s an undercurrent of distance now that wasn’t there before. Shepard doubts that Varric will call her Nightlight again and she mourns it for a moment, the friendship she could have made. But sacrifices of all sorts are made in war.

 

She leaves the tavern that night feeling exhausted in heart but not in body. She walks aimlessly around Haven, the sun long set and the two moons rising over head. She walks out the gates Haven and to the edge of the clearing before the forest. She doesn’t enter the forest, not with her now poor night vision. But she sits at the edge of the clearing and stares up at the stars. She belongs up there, with them. This world she’s on is strange and foreign and she has no idea what’s happening half the time. And she’s needed home. Or maybe she needs her home? It’s hard to say.

 

She stays out there until the cold sets in and she shivering and then she stays out there longer still, just staring at the stars.

 

Eventually she stands, her limbs stiff and numb from the cold and walks back through the gates of Haven. She heads to her cabin, wincing as the warmth from a fire still lit sinks into her bones. She swiftly changes into a shift and climbs into her bed, now feeling soft as anything after sleeping on the ground for over a month and a half. The fire sinks lower and eventually goes out and still Shepard is awake, staring out her window to the little bit of sky she can see.

  
She doesn’t know when she falls asleep but she dreams of the stars that night and a warm, dry, scaled hand holding hers.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title "Crumbling is not an instant's act" by Emily Dickinson


	9. The bakery’s graffiti either spells HOPE or NOPE.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the Mothers (plus Sera)

The journey to Val Royeaux  is exhausting but not so much in a physical sense. It seems that her situation has finally caught up to Shepard and now all she feels is a deep set anxiety and determination to get back home. If she can close the Breach before she goes she will, but the fact of the matter is that the galaxy take priority over one world. She’s made that call before; she’ll do it again and again if she has to.

 

She’s long since learned that she can’t save everyone.

 

So the journey is long and tiring- Varric is distant with her, which hurts but might be easier in the long run. The others sense her sudden tension and maintain a respectful distance as well. It’s lonely work but it always is so she perseveres. The only one that’s still close to her is Blue who follows her around like a lost dog looking for food. She misses her friends.

 

Val Royeaux itself does take her breath away. Even from a distance the city gleams. Part of her wonders what seedy underbelly this city hides, all gleaming cities have one, but mostly the architecture fascinates her.  They leave their horses in a nearby stable for such things and walk over the bridge, Blue attempts to follow but is quickly subdued with a few whispered words and a handful of oats. Turning back to her companions she notes the amused looks on their faces, even Varric’s, but they move on quickly. Her exhaustion is there in the back of her mind, an old friend. She won’t let it distract her.

 

The city is as beautiful from within as it is from a distance, red drapes crisscross the skies and the architecture is simply beautiful, golden lions watching fiercely from every corner. Red, white, gold: these are the colors of Val Royeaux. An inquisition scout approaches them as they walk through the city, updating them of the situation. Apparently, the Templars have returned to protect the people, according to the Chantry Sisters. This...complicates things. A fight in an unfamiliar city with civilians everywhere? Not the best of situations. With trepidation they make their way towards the heart of the city where the crowds are becoming denser and people whisper of the Herald of Andraste. At one point someone shouts, “There she is!” and suddenly they are given wide berth; a path straight to a platform where several women dressed in the same red, white, and gold of the city and the chantry stand- tall and proud and surrounded by men dressed in heavy armour. Shepard doesn’t allow any nervousness to show through, instead falling back into her mind, analyzing every escape route and possible makeshift weapon, making plan to take as many out as quickly as possible with minimal civilian casualty.

 

Battle Sleep, Thane called it.

 

They walk as one, Shepard positioning herself in front in an unconscious attempt to shield the others, particularly Solas and his mage stave, from view. She keeps her hands by her side, falling into something almost like a march but sleeker, more fluid, than that. A predator stalking towards a hunt.

 

“Good people of Val Royeaux! Hear me!” The mother begins going on to to preach to the crowd in an...aggravating manner, ending with accusing Shepard of murdering the Divine.

 

“I do not claim to be the Herald,” Shepard responds, “I seek only to close the Rift in the sky. We must unite to stop it!”

 

“It’s true,” Cassandra says, “The Inquisition only seeks to end this madness before it is too late!”

 

“It is already too late! The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this Inquisition and the people will be safe once more!”

 

Men in heavy armour walk out then, but their gait is strange. A swagger to it she doesn’t noramlly associate with the Templars she’s seen thus far. The mother seems to sense something off as well as she backs away from them slightly but it doesn’t matter in the end, a Templar comes up from behind and knocks her over the head.  

 

"Obviously, a group that feels the need to beat defenseless old women has no honor to speak of," Shepard's voice is cold, there's no love between the clerics and herself but hitting someone defenseless from behind to make a point? Someone with obviously no combat training? It's disgusting.

 

"What would you know of honor- you who claim to be the Herald of our beloved Andraste?" The Lord Seeker demands.

 

If Shepard could stand any straighter she would, "Obviously your hearing has gone the way of your honor: I never claimed to be the Herald of Andraste and have denied it everytime when asked, including here."

 

"Enough of this," he growls out, "Templars! We march! This city is no longer worthy of our protection!"

 

they turn as one, dismissing her and her companions thoroughly. Shepard's finger twitch at her side, but she clenches her hands into fists. Instead, she turns her back on them right back and strides towards the fallen cleric, the crowds parting like waves around her. She climbs the platform and crouches down before the fallen cleric, ignoring the way the others tense around her.

 

"Will you let me examine your head for damage?"

 

There's a tense moment between them all, she hadn't shouted the words by any means but the crowds were more silent than any large group of people had the right to be and so the words carried. The cleric's eyes are defiant and she stares at her, her voice tense and cold as she responds, "No."

 

Shepard nods and then stands, facing the crowd, "People of Val Royeux! We came here today to represent the Inquisition and so we will. The Inquisition's goal is not political- we exist only to close the beach and restore peace to these lands once more! But we can't do it alone, closing the Breach will be a united effort of all people. Should you be interested in helping with our cause then join us and stand with us as one!"

 

The effect of the words are almost immediate. The crowd breaks into mutters and whispers, a lion deciding whether or not the creature before it is an ally or if it's prey. Then, one person in the back lets out a cheer followed by another, until the crowd has been caught up in the excitement of being a part of something larger than themselves. She doesn't look towards the clerics behind her but towards her companions, who are now being handled with thumps on the back and hand shakes as opposed to the outright fear they held before. She doesn't look towards the clerics even as she walks away, the message clear: she's won this round.

 

God, she hates politics.

 

The crowd disperses after a time, they are approached again and again by people looking to help the Inquisition and each time Shepard thanks them with a smile and directs them to the local Inquisition scouts.The most interesting thing to happen is the red arrow that strikes before them with instructions to find items that are red. An invitation to a party is given to them by a servant and they are approached by the leader of the mage rebellion. Overall, an interesting turn of events.

 

It is only when Shepard is bargaining with a merchant over how much a particularly interesting looking fruit costs that Shepard realizes what she's done. She's set herself up to be some sort of icon for the Inquisition despite denying her Herald status. She nearly groans but instead merely sighs, her passion for bartering dropping sharply at the realization and settling for a price that she's sure she could have gotten reduced at least another five silvers. She grumpily grabs her purchase and walks off.    

 

“So you’ve noticed have you?” Solas asks, walking in long strides to keep up with her shorter, quicker ones.

 

“Maybe,” she grumbles, slowing down a bit.

 

“You had to have known it was inevitable either way,” he remarks. Shepard hur-rumphs and continues walking.

 

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Shepard responds, tone sounding as grumpy as she feels.

 

“Mind explaining?” Varric asks, sidling up to them.

 

“Our Lady Herald (“Don’t call me that!”) has made herself an icon despite denying the status of Herald. No doubt her own words on the matter will be ignored entirely now.”

 

Shepard grumbles at that but doesn’t deny it, it’s true after all. The others make thoughtful ‘Ah’ noises.

 

“Why don’t you play along there Shepard? What’s the harm in giving the people a little hope?” Varric asks, something in his voice a little cold. Shepard sighs, he’s still angry with her after all, she’d hoped...never mind what she hoped.

 

“I can’t be something I’m not Varric,” Shepard responds gently, “If I tell people I’m their Herald then when I can’t deliver on that promise it’ll only hurt worse,” she pauses for a moment, considering, “I’m only a person.”

 

“Yeah, you are aren’t you?” Varric sighs deeply and the conversation falls after that. The silence isn’t the same though, less tense maybe.  

 

They walk, and Shepard tosses the fruits she bought to her companions. It’s a nice quiet moment as they walk from place to place trying to gather these red notes. It’s simple, easy. Which makes it nerve wracking. Everything is moving so slowly. She tries to ignore it. Just as she tries to ignore the stares and whispers, the utter awe in some people’s eyes and the derision in others.

 

That night they enter an abandoned courtyard. It’s quiet and dark and out of the way. Perfect for a set up.

 

A pompous man in a gold mask walks before them, shooting fireballs haphazardly. His manner immediately makes Shepard’s politician sense itch. She kinda wants to shoot him on sight. As he opens his mouth the urge only gets stronger. Her fingers twitch. She hears Solas huff a laugh under his breath as though he can tell what she’s thinking.

 

“Just say ‘what!’” a voice calls out

 

“What is the meaning of-” the man begins before an arrow is sticking out of his forehead.

 

“Ugh! Squishy one but you heard me right? Just say what! Rich tits always want more then they deserve,” she walks over to the man she just shot, “blah blah blah,” a squish as she pulls the arrow out, “obey me, arrow in my face. Well,  you followed the notes well enough let’s see. You’re rather plain really, all that talk and you’re just a person,” Shepard doesn’t know what to say to that but she feels amused and at ease. She’s the first person to not look at Shepard with even the slightest respect and Shepard could use that right about now.   

 

Shepard laughs, utterly delighted with the elf before her as they fight a soldiers not wearing their breaches. It’s over quickly with the four of them working in tandem to bring down the pants-less soldiers.

 

“My people really came through with that one, hehe no breaches. So Herald of Andraste, you’re a strange one. I’d like to join,” Sera says, a grin on her face.

 

“First,” Shepard says, “tell me who these ‘people of yours are.”

 

“The Red Jennies! There’s a lot of us, well there’s some of us all over. Little people fighting back when the big people take the shit out on them.”

 

“So you’re a rebellion of some sort?”

 

“What? No, nothing like that. It’s like this. You got a serving boy who don’t know shite but knows a bad man when he sees one, so we come by a give him a bad day, sometimes with a pie to the face sometimes with an arrow, to the face that is. It’s just little people standing up for themselves yeah?”

 

Shepard thinks for a moment. An unorganized group like the Jennies could be an asset or a detriment and whether Sera genuinely didn’t realize it or not having access to the thoughts of civilians in key places could be useful.

 

“Ok Sera,” Shepard begins slowly, “We’ll see how you and your Jennies work out for now.”

 

“Yes! Get in before they get too big for their breaches! Get it, because I stole their…? You have people who buy these sorts of things right?”

 

Shepard laughs at Sera’s antics and laughs again as she stops at a barrel and pulls out a ridiculous amount of breaches. She’s utterly charmed by Sera’s humor and Sera seems to sense this as she tells more and more raunchy jokes and stories as they make their way to the Inquisition camp. She feels lighter than she has since her argument with Varric.

 

Leaving Val Royeaux makes Shepard a little sad, she would have liked to have explored the city more, but there is still the matter of Madame Viviene’s party to attend and getting to know their new companion. It feels odd, trying to include someone new into their trio, a bit like trying to make an extra puzzle piece fit. But Sera makes it easy, with easy smiles and easy laughter.

 

Varric warms up to her the quickest, the same way he seems to warm up to everyone barr Cassandra while Cassandra and Solas seem neutral for now. There’s no telling how personalities will mix in the future though. It feels a bit like gathering her crew when they were first dealing with Saren; figuring out what personalities mesh well and what combinations best worked together and who absolutely could not be in the same room together much less a battlefield. Part of her is glad to have that familiarity but most of her just wants misses home. The thought sobers her, the smile on her face fading slightly as she watches Varric and Sera crack jokes, causing the soldiers around them to laugh.

  
Despite increasing hilarity from the two Shepard can’t manage to crack a smile for the rest of the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things will start speeding up in a chapter or two no worries
> 
> Chapter titles "Is It Better Where You Are?" by Christopher Salerno


	10. Loneliness is a kind of winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Polling the crew.

Vivienne is a politician. Shepard distrusts her near on sight because of it. She’s managed to ‘subtly’ insult all of them on the journey back to Haven and Shepard is regretting ever allying with her. Oh she’s powerful for sure, and no doubt will be a useful ally.

 

But she’s a politician.

 

The familiar walls of Haven are welcoming. Their little group disbands and Shepard stares longingly towards her cabin. Instead, she heads toward the chantry in order to debrief with the others. Vivienne follows, no doubt wanting to be close to any political squandering while Sera heads towards the tavern. Shepard desperately wishes to join her.

 

Walking into the chantry, as always, brings with it the quiet warmth and protection from the biting cold of the outside world. Vivienne leans against a nearby wall as the others approach and Shepard notes to herself to watch her tongue around her. Not that Vivienne would be able to do anything to Shepard personally, but having her as an enemy of the Inquisition when it is still so young would slow down the job. And Shepard needs to get off this planet already.

 

The meeting goes as well as can be expected, Leliana and Josephine want the rebel mages, Cullen and Cassandra was the Templars and Shepard just thinks someone needs to make a decision already. Again, they turn to her to break the stalemate between them. Shepard thinks that’s really why they keep her around these days. She doesn’t want to sigh as heavily as she wants to with Vivienne watching from the wall, but she does breath deeply through her nose. She wonders what Vivienne has gathered just by watching them interact? She’s the last of the “loyal mages”, maybe she has a perspective to offer?

 

Ugh. Politicians.

 

She steals herself, turns her innards to stone and hardens her face into an expressionless mask. By which is meant that her face is easy and open and gullible. It tends to put politicians off guard when they think they have the upper hand. She walks over to Vivienne who looks at ease amongst the chaos of the chantry, as tho she is simultaneously above everything and that she belongs exactly where she is.

 

“Lady Vivienne I’d like to speak with you about our situation if you have a moment?” Shepard asks. She’s not really asking, she’s prodding for a reaction and if she happens to get an answer all the better.

 

Vivienne’s lip curl upwards like a serpent, Shepard’s own lips widen into a guileless smile of her own, “Of course my dear whatever do you need?”

 

“What is your opinion of the rebel mages as the leader of the last loyal mages?” Shepard purposefully quotes her. She’s being a bit more biting than she probably should but Vivienne unnerves her.

“My dear I hope you aren’t planning on approaching them: they are unreliable and untrained. The whole of them are likely blood mages and abominations; a danger to all around them. It would be much better to approach the Templars who are well trained and remain loyal to the chantry.”

 

Like a predator, Shepard strikes, “Lord Seeker Lucius himself assaulted one of the Mothers - do we really want to ally ourselves with a group so willing to attack civilians? The rebel mages at least have kept quietly to Redcliff, at least.”

 

“That would be because they have no power and they know it. As for the Lord Seeker, he is a problem. Likely he will need to be replaced, but the majority of the order will follow your lead.”

 

“In that case wouldn’t working from a position of power over the mages be better? We’d be working with the upper hand”

 

Vivienne laughs, delighted by something and seeming to approve, “Your thinking shredly my dear and that will serve you well. No matter who you approach you will be working with a position of power- both orders need you more than you need them as you could easily approach the other. But do be careful of how you step my dear; you’re still new to the steps of the game and it would be a great loss to all of Thedas should you misstep.”

 

She turns then, dismissing her with a gesture. Shepard feels as though she’s simultaneously won something and lost. It’s disconcerting.

 

She leaves the chantry then, and heads towards Solas’s cabin: a mage as well but an apostate by this world’s standards. He is standing outside his cabin, much like he was the first time they met this way, staring up at the Breach like it is a puzzle to be solved. She makes her steps a little louder on purpose, advertising her approach. He’s the jumpy sort, she’s noticed over the past weeks, not used to being around people. At least not people who didn’t mean to hurt him.

 

“Solas,” she says as she approaches, “Could I ask your opinion on something?”

 

He turns to face her, a smile of greeting on his face, “Of course, Shepard. How can I help you?”

 

“The Mages and the Templars,” she begins, immediately his face shuttering closed, “They’ve made me tie breaker for them again and they want me to choose who to approach. Both have their merits and faults politically but I’m concerned with how it will affect the Fade. I thought you the best person to ask.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Well I don’t know much about the Fade beyond what I’ve read and what you’ve told me. I’m not a mage after all, I can’t experience it the way you do. But the Fade effects this world too right? So what happens there can affect this world as well. It seems to me that suppressing the breach or pouring too much magic into it, well, it could damage the Fade either way, right?”

 

He’s silent for a long moment, staring at her. He then nods slowly and places a hand on his chin as though deep in thought. Well used to Solas’s habits by this point, Shepard contents herself to wait, prodding him at this point will only make him snippy and she really doesn’t feel like poking the bear today. Maybe another day. With Sera.

 

After about five minutes of deep thinking on Solas’s part and people watching on Shepard’s, Solas makes a thoughtful noise which draws Shepard’s attention back to him.

 

“From that standpoint,” he begins slowly, almost reluctantly, “neither option is better than the other. Both will impact the Fade in likely negative manners,” he stops himself here, obviously refraining from saying more without invitation.

 

She offers it without thought, “And your opinion on the matter?”

 

“I think the mages would be the better choice. For hundreds of years they have been oppressed by the Templars. The Inquisition could perhaps give them the chance at a better life,” his voice is low as to not be overheard, leaning in so that his voice doesn’t carry.

 

“I thought that might be the case,” Shepard murmurs back. The idea of a group of people being locked away with armed guards watching over them to ostentatiously protect them hadn’t sat well with her when she first heard it and hearing it from someone who lived that life was only confirmation.

 

Immediately, Solas looks surprised. Is basic empathy so rare in this world? No that’s unfair, Shepard decides, when you’re taught from a young age to fear and hate a group it’s difficult to get over said teachings. Shepard might very well be the same had she been born on this world.

 

“You will approach the mages then?” Solas asks, his voice cautious but hopeful.

 

It’s Shepard’s turn to be silent as she thinks through her answer. Eventually she sighs and shakes her head while answering, “I don’t know. I want to- I think they deserve it too but,” she raises a hand to forestall his burgeoning protest, “I need to think about the rest of Thedas too. The Templars are better equipped and better trained to follow orders. They’d likely integrate into the Inquisition much easier than the mages and we can’t afford to coddle anyone right now with the Breach as a threat,” she takes the hand she had raised to stall Solas and rubs it down her face in exasperation. She’s so tired, “Ideally we approach both. Get them to work together. But I just don’t…” she sighs and shakes her head, “I shouldn’t be making these decisions,” she ends on a mutter.

 

A beat of pause and Solas responds, “On the contrary, I think you’re the best person to make these desicions,” Shepard snorts, “you grew up isolated from the rest of the world so you have an outsider's perspective; you see things more clearly than most. I trust your judgement.”

 

Shepard is touched and nods once with determination, "Thank you, Solas. That means a lot."

 

"I presume you're off to ask there rest of our companions on their opinion on the matter?" Solas asks.

 

"Am I that predictable?" Shepard responds, amusement in her voice.

 

"Not at all, you've simply made it a habit to gather as much information as possible on any given subject before expressing an opinion on the matter. It is a  good trait in a leader."

 

"I'm not the leader of the Inquisition, Solas," Shepard clarifies with finality in her voice, no room for argument on this matter.

 

In response, Solas merely raises an eyebrow as though she simply refused to see a most basic truth. It's annoying. Shepard huffs through her nose in response and Solas gives a short chuckle.

 

"I'm going to ignore that," Shepard says with false dignity, as tho bestowing some great favor.

 

She turns on her heal then and walks away, gracefully ignoring the chuckle Solas let out in response. She thinks on who to ask next- each of the advisors having made their opinions on the matter known it really only leaves Sera and Varric. Varric, she knows, will dodge the question until they're in the tavern drinking ale and spinning stories (she may have fallen for that trick once or twice...or three times) so instead she heads towards Sera in the Tavern.

 

Sera is laughing with some patrons when Shepard enters, telling a story with wide hand gestures and over exaggerated facial expressions. Shepard stands to the side as she listens in on the conversation.

 

"And then the lil tit said 'WHAttt Is the MeAnInG oF ThiSsss!?!?!'" she over exaggerated every other syllable with no ryhme or reason, "and then I shoot an arrow to his face and it's like 'squelch!' And that's how I met Her-Heraldness, her face was all like," here, Sera makes an over exaggerated face of surprise, "And she was all like Who're you? And I was like 'I'm Sera, that's cover get round it' because the backup was coming see? But I stole their breeches! So all these soldiers were fighting us in their knickers!"

 

The laughter is uproarious now, several patrons banging their pints on the table and slashing ale around (the proper term, she had learned. They don't have the beer here yet)

 

"I believe you're leaving out the part where I save your ass at least three times that night," Shepard calls out, a smirk on her face. Immediately the tone in the room changes, the patrons sit up straighter and the laughter tapers off. They seem to be waiting for something.

 

Sera either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore it, "Yeah? Well I must have saved your arse at least four times that night! Plus twice more the next day when that band-tit thought he could rob us."

 

Shepard makes a show of acting as tho deep in thought before sighing with great exaggeration, "I suppose you're right."

 

The ice in the room breaks and people are talking again. It's still more tense than it was before but there's a definite lightness to the air now that wasn't after Shepard first announce her presence. By unspoken agreement they walk towards a back corner of the the Tavern.

 

“So what’s up your Herald-ness?” Sera asks, sitting on a table and swinging her legs backs and forth like a child.

 

“I want your opinion on the Mage-Templar conflict.”

 

Sera immediately blows a raspberry, “That’s what I think about it! Everyone’s killing everyone else and gettin’ little people killed in between them. Neither sides worth nothing s’far as I’m concerned.”

 

Shepard nods, that was the answered she had expected, “So you have no preference on if we approach the Mages or Templars for help?”

 

Sera makes a face, “I mean I don’t like magic, mages are fine but magic is just creepy innit? And the Templars with their swords and their rawr attitudes and punchin’ old ladies? Not worth nothing.”

 

“It doesn’t matter right now I guess,” Shepard says suddenly, “We still need more influence if we’re going to approach either side.”

 

Sera blows another raspberry, “Politics and Nobel shite! Ugh!”

 

Shepard laughs and nods along, “No arguments from me here!”

 

“Hey Shepard,” Sera slyly begins, a wide and mischievous grin on her face, “Wanna do something fun?”

 

Her version of fun involves a bucket of snow, a door, and a rather pissed off Commander Cullen and it’s the most fun Shepard’s had since the party on the Citadel. It’s the lightest Shepard’s felt in an age and giggling with Sera behind the barracks, hiding from the wrath of Commander Cullen, Shepard is reminded why fighting for every life where possible is worth it. Why every moment is worth fighting for.

 

She still needs to find her way home, still has a galaxy to save (tho part of Shepard is starting to suspect that might not be as easy as building a communicator and calling up the Normandy, has a feeling things are more complicated than that) but this world? Is worth saving if she can.

  
Everyone is worth saving if she can. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Jacket Weather" by PLEASEFINDTHIS (Iain S. Thomas), from the book 'I wrote this for you and only for you'.


	11. What's the point of kept secrets?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Storm Coast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay my lovelies! And thank you all for your kind messages, I don't often respond to messages here because I don't like to give potential viewers a false idea of how many people are actually commenting on this fic but rest assured I read each and every one of them and I deeply appreciate all of you!

Shepard trusts The Iron Bull as far as she can throw him. If she were a biotic (or a mage) she imagines that would be pretty far. As it is, she’s only a highly trained N7 engineer come archer so while she could probably manages to get him on his ass the distance in which that would be would not be great. That is to say, she trusts him enough to know not to trust him. Good news is that he seems to respect that, bad news is Shepard doesn’t trust that he respects that.

 

She keeps him close to her, not wanting him alone in Haven while all the heavy hitters are with her. Varric, of course, immediately gets chummy with him. Cassandra is cold and Solas even more so. Neither had liked her decision to hire the Chargers, Cassandra sighting that the Inquisition ought to be better than sell-swords and Solas just quietly disapproving from afar. The five of them stomp through the Storm Coast, making peace with the Blades of Hessarian and scouting out the area.

 

It’s also where she see her fist Giant. And her first Dragon.

 

Some part of her is awed, staring from afar and watching the two beasts fight one another. Another, smaller part of her, the part that didn’t quite heal right after Akuze, is excited; adrenaline pumping through her veins at the thought of taking down these two creatures. That sentiment is one shared by Iron Bull who murmurs strategies for taking down dragons and giants alike as they watch the two battle it out. The largest part of her is terrified. Dragons? Giants? Was magic not enough for this strange world to throw at her, now it was showing her literal fairy tales?

 

How does a person even begin to reconcile that with what they know?

 

Eventually, the dragon wins, finishing off the Giant with one large bite between the Giant’s shoulder and neck, ripping its throat out. It stoops over its kill then ripping into the soft belly of the Giant and begins to devour it, swallowing large chunks at a time similar to a large cat or a wolf. Soon, it flies away, its great wings pushing the dragon from the ground with so much force that even from as far as they are there is still the faint gust of wind, closer to the beast sand swirls and trees lean with the wind under the sheer pressure of the wind. A few more strong beats and it takes to the air, screeching into the sky as it flies away.

 

Shepard’s heart is pounding. It’ just a Thresher Maw with wings, Shepard thinks to herself, calm yourself it’s gone now. She feels a faint tremble go through her. A hand touches her shoulder and initially Shepard twitches away from it before settling back and allowing whoever it is to comfort her in this small way.

 

“Never seen a dragon before, boss?” The Iron Bull asks, voice light, “Nearly pissed myself the first time I saw one but man the rush you get from taking one of those beauties down…” he trails off, voice almost reverent.

 

“Had to take one down a High Dragon in the bone pit a few years back with Hawke and lemme tell you knowing someone who’s actually afraid of the things? It’s a big relief to meet someone with some sense of self preservation.”

 

“I resent that,” Shepard says, “I have it on good authority that I don’t have an ounce of self preservation in my whole body.”

 

“Great, well it wouldn’t be a story otherwise I suppose,” Varric quips back.

 

The hand on her shoulder tightens momentarily before falling away, she looks over shoulder and quirks a smile at Solas who returns it with a small smile of his own. They move on then, The Iron Bull insisting that they check out the Giant’s body as Giants are notorious hoarders and usually have decent loot on them. All the while Cassandra and The Iron Bull discuss different dragon hunting strategies which calms Shepard down more; knowing the things can be defeated is of great comfort to her. After searching the Giant’s body and finding a lovely new shield for Cassandra they continue on their search for the missing scouts.

 

The Iron Bull takes point, having stayed at the storm coast the past few days and more familiar with the terrain than any of them. Cassandra take rear guard while she and varric protect the flanks, Solas, their only mage, safely surrounded by them all in a loose box. For some reason this seems to amuse him. The journey is hard, with many steep inclines made muddy by the constant rainfall. Varric manages to slip once in the mud and doesn’t stop grumbling about the mud in his coat the entire time. Midday comes and they reach a small plateau with a few beaten and worn down houses. Immediately they are over run by well armed mercenaries.

 

Both Cassandra and the Iron Bull let out battle cries, confusing and distracting the mercenaries while she, Varric and Solas pick them off from the sidelines. The battle is over quickly in their favor, thankfully. They search the bodies, finding nothing on them, and then search the buildings. The smell of rancid bodies fills the air.

 

“Shit, these must be the scouts,” Varric mumbles, shaking his head. They mark the location on their map so as to give the dead proper funerals and find several notes describing the unrest of these mercenaries, of how to challenge their leader without more bloodshed. It would be faster to simply walk to their main camp and decimate the lot of them, but if the Reaper War has taught Shepard anything it’s that the extra effort to show mercy can pay off in the most unexpected, and valuable, ways.

 

They mine ore and hunt for skins in the caves nearby, carefully gathering the materials needed in order to challenge the leader of this band of mercenaries or whatever it is they claim to be. Shepard is lost in her own thoughts, thinking of dragons and giants and men. This world is so different from any other she’s been on yet eerily similar to Earth. Earth, perhaps two degrees to the right and a few hundred years behind concerning technologies. But Earth nonetheless. She wonders if trying to contact the Normandy would work here- she’s been so busy these past few months (had it really been months? Time goes seems to move so slow here, without the luxuries of instant communication and fast travel to aid you) that the thought of communicating had been, while in the back of her mind constantly, a relatively low priority compared to trying to help the people in front of her. Liara used to say she was only scattered brained when it came to people asking for her help and then she couldn’t stop herself from assisting any way she could, even with other priorities lingering.

 

Copper, she thinks, and Iron will be needed. To make a communicator of some sorts. There’s been no Eezo on this planet so far so nothing as complicated as quantum entanglement communicators (lyrium, she had discovered was not anything like ezoo. The results had been...explosive. As had been Cassandra’s reaction. And Varric’s. And, well, everyone’s.) but maybe a telegraph? But this world doesn’t even have electricity yet how could she possibly make a telegraph without access to electricity unless...she resists the urge to look at Solas.

 

That...could work. A basic telegraph, powered by Solas? That could work but Solas is as curious as she is- he’d want to know what exactly his magic would be powering and why she would need such a thing. That would involve telling him more than she’d prefer. An unavoidable consequence in her quest to go home? Perhaps. Perhaps he’d even believe her, unlike the war council who still seem to think that she’s either lying or delusional; the Fade is enough like another world that he could perhaps accept the fact that there are more worlds out there.

 

That leaves her with two questions left to answer. The first: does she trust Solas with this kind of knowledge? She’s surprised to find the answer quickly, yes she does. He’s been remarkably open minded thus far and seems to holds a great love for the Fade. At the very least he won’t dismiss her outright. But what proof could she offer? She’d figure that out later.

  
The second question is how does one even build a telegraph? It would need to be closer to a radio then a telegraph really, since telegraphs only transmit between other locations via cable. Trial and error. Necessity is the mother of invention and all that.

 

“You okay there boss? You look like you’re thinking really hard about something.” The Iron Bull asks, his eye scanning the tree line for the camp they should be approaching soon.

 

Shepard blinks, suddenly brought back to the world, “Just thinking about a project I’m working on.”

 

Cassandra makes a noise and Varric groans, “Do me a favor Nightlight and don’t involve lyrium this time!” Varric says with exasperation and fondness.

 

“Oh? Sounds like a story to me,” Says Bull. Cassandra grumbles again and Solas chuckles.

 

“Our Shepard here had never seen lyrium before she came to Haven, she wanted to see what it would do,” Varric explains, “So she goes and gets a bit of lyrium, heats it up and…” here Varric makes an exploding noise with his mouth, his hands curled up in front of him and then spreading outwards like an explosion.

 

Iron Bull lets out a hearty laugh, and Varric soon follows while Solas chuckles. Even Cassandra begins to smirk a little.

 

“I wanted to examine it’s properties!” Shepard objects with good humor, accepting the ribbing with ease, “It proved volatile to say the least.”  

 

That only brought on a new bout of laughter and a groan from Cassandra. Shepard’s heart feels light. They continue from there, the conversation flowing easily like water in a gentle stream. It’s become easier for Shepard to speak with these people, easier to open up. they don’t ask about her past and she doesn’t ask about theirs. What results is an easy sort of conversation. It’s...nice. She feels more relaxed then she has in years. Part of her feels guilty for it, the part of her that’s feels guilty for remaining on this strange world and not on the Normandy. But now, with a plan of sorts of in place to get in contact with the Normandy, or anyone really, it’s easier to simply relax and enjoy the friendships that are slowly beginning to form between them all.

 

Eventually, with the Mercy’s Crest in hand, they approach the mercenary camp. The conversation between them trickles off as they each prepare themselves for a battle. When they approach the fort, it’s tall walls overshadowing them as they approach, the guards before her begin to whisper about her and the Mercy’s Crest she wears over her armour. They let them pass, eyeing them suspiciously. They walk through the fort down what appears to be the main path. Houses line either side of it, people peak out from doorways and windows. A child is pulled inside a home by a mother’s stern hand. A gust of wind picks up dirt and sand and swirls it about, the only sound they hear save their own footsteps.

 

There is a raised platform not far away, a large, bulky man stand atop it, greatsword in hand, seemingly carelessly draped over his shoulder, and a cocky smirk on his face. His muscles bulge with scars from previous battles.

 

“So you think to challenge me?” the man belts out, playing up the dramatics in his tone for their hidden audience.

 

“We are with the Inquisition,” Shepard begins, “and our scouts have been killed. What have you got to say?”

 

“Only that I will gladly continue doing so! If you wish justice, claim it!” the man let out a warrior's shout, swinging the greatsword from over his shoulder and down to where Shepard would have been had she not quickly dodged out of the way. Immediately they were set upon by war hounds and the man. Shepard felt the familiar feeling of Solas’s barrier dropping over her and then they were off. The battle falling into the familiar rhythm they’d developed over the weeks they’d spent fighting together. The leader of the Blade of Hessarian, who seemed so cocky before, now fights with desperation, making clumsy mistakes as his war hounds are taken down one by one. Shepard, from where she hides in the shadows, takes aim as the leader swings at Iron Bull, the least armoured of them all with his insistence of wearing only pants. But Iron Bull matches him blow for blow. When the moment is right Shepard fires her crossbow, the bolt flying through the battle and into the very unprotected head of the leader. His head bursts open, blood and brain matter spattering bull who’s closest as well as the ground and walls of one of the cabins. His body drops like a rock, unceremoniously to the ground.

 

‘If nothing else,’ Shepard thinks, ‘my aim has gotten better.’

 

“Nice shot Boss!” Iron Bull says cheerfully, using the back of his hand to wipe a bit of blood off his face.

 

For a moment there is a tense silence, will the people hiding in their homes come out and demand penance for killing their leader? One of the doors opens, and then another. Shepard’s hands tighten on her crossbow. One of the men steps forward, hands raised and weaponless, the other’s stay far away not crowding or blocking their leave should they wish it.

 

“The Blades of Hessarian are now yours to command, Inquisition.”

 

Confusion fills Shepard, “Are you not upset that your leader is dead?” she asks slowly.

 

“He was an ass,” the man states bluntly, “He’d been challenged several times before now. BY defeating him you have become our Leader.”

 

“I am part the Inquisition,” Shepard says, “I can’t be here to lead you.”

 

“If you are part of this Inquisition so shall we be. You don’t need to lead us, we’ve been doing that ourselves for years. But we will follow the will of the Inquisition.”

 

With that the man place a fist over his heart and dropped to one knee, the others all follow his lead and drop similarly. It’s unnerving. Soon they raise again and instantly Shepard feels more comfortable.

  
they dally only long enough to see to their wounds and then they’re off, Shepard only feels completely at ease when the fort is no longer in direct sight any longer. This is different than leading. This is worship for the damned mark on her hand and thus her. She clenches her hands into fists and picks up the pace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is "Kept Secrets by Austin Kleon


End file.
